Gone
by Matilda384
Summary: <html><head></head>What was she thinking? What was she feeling? What was behind that beautiful, assuring smile?</html>
1. The Beginning

**So I decided to write this based upon the book Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. If you haven't read it, it's a fantastic story. So I got inspired to write this. I_ won't_ copy exactly every single thing that comes from that bestseller - not at all; I'm just using the concept as an idea base to launch chapter-rockets off of. I don't own either Harry Potter or Gone Girl. Please enjoy this, and more chapters will be coming soon (and will be much longer than this introduction)!**

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><p>Narcissa tapped her foot on the soft carpet of the library, flipping another page of the book she was reading. Back straight and hair perfectly done, she was the picture of a sophisticated woman; the portrait of a good wife. She caught Lucius looking at her from across the room. He often did this, just pondering her beauty, her delicacy. She was perfect—she was everything that a man could want. She didn't speak unless spoken to, she bore him an heir, she liked to bake sweets, she upheld her pureblood upbringing, she prevented the bed from getting lonely. She let him lead the relationship; something he found to be very important and necessary in his house. Giving her husband a small smile, Narcissa returned to reading her book. This was how it had always been before the Dark Lord had risen and taken over their home. But all that was done now. Narcissa had cleaned everything spotless in the house. She took care of her husband after his traumatic experiences. She let her son stay hidden away in his room.<p>

And just like that, everything was back to normal.

Not a lot of talking in the house, not too much noise. Lucius returned to reading his book as well, although he couldn't help occasionally glancing up to look at her. He didn't know why. She'd barely spoken of any of the incidents of the war. So what was she thinking? How was she feeling? Did she remember things about the war, or did she just shut them out? He didn't know. He would never know. He thought. But for now, all he could say was that she was fine—she was only looking towards the future, not the past. Her poise, her gentle smile, her willingness to return to normality hinted him to come to that conclusion. So for now, everything was fine. She seemed content, so why shouldn't he?


	2. The Day Before

**So things are really going to start picking up and moving fast here. This chapter sort of gets into things a little bit more, and the next will be rather explosive. So if you're wondering when it's going to get interesting, fear not; the mystery is on its way. Thank you for reading this.**

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><p>It was a Sunday morning just like all Sunday mornings: Lucius sitting at the head of the breakfast table, Narcissa quietly applying jam to her toast, Draco nervously stirring his tea. Quiet as usual. The only interruption was the owl that swooped in and dropped <em>The Daily Prophet<em> on the table, nearly giving Draco a heart attack. Lucius paid the owl and grimaced at the sight of the front-page photo. Another one of those gorgeous headshots of his Azkaban days, having just come from a battle of all battles involving the Dark Lord and a forced separation between him and his family. Wonderful. Narcissa pretended not to notice. She just set a piece of perfectly spread toast in front of her son, returning to put jam on another for her husband as well. "I was wondering when the gossip rats would figure out my trial date," Lucius sneered softly. Draco's spoon rattled in his fingers. Narcissa raised her eyes. "What are they saying?" she asked. Sighing, Lucius scanned the front page. "'Death Eater family may pay the ultimate price for betrayal of the Wizarding World'." he read aloud.

"I don't remember ever betraying the Wizarding World." Narcissa calmly replied.

"If anything you saved it. But in pure honesty, we _all_ may face charges if the jury decides that's how they want it." At this, Draco visibly paled.

"But only you're going for a trial tomorrow. They haven't summoned me or Draco."

"It doesn't matter. If they find me guilty and send me back to Azkaban, they'll want you questioned too. You can't just discount that completely—it is a possibility."

"Lucius, it's going to be fine. They won't find you guilty of anything—you defected. There isn't anything to really worry about yet. We're going to be right there at the trial to support you, to show them that we're a family, and that's what we'll always be. Nothing is going to split us apart."

She smiled gently, reaching across the table to hand Lucius the piece of toast she'd finished spreading jam over. Hesitating for a moment due to his wife's complete calmness about their situation (which was usually unlike her if someone threatened their family), he looked into her blue eyes. What was she feeling? This was certainly a different reaction than she'd ever had before towards anything that had to do with a dispute or the past. Maybe the war really did change people. Lucius decided that all he could do was take comfort in the fact that she was remaining so strong for him, and returned her smile as he accepted the toast onto his plate. Narcissa gave one more little grin before looking away, setting the teapot in the center of the table and reaching over to gently rub her son's trembling fingers. Lucius dropped The Daily Prophet onto the far corner of the table. If his wife, the strongest of the Malfoys, hell, the bloody Woman-Who-Stopped-The-War, was confident in his trial's outcome, then why should he worry?

He did have his family by his side no matter what, after all.


	3. The Day Of

**This is where it all begins! I'm having so much fun writing this. I hope you like reading it. But honestly guys, I don't know how to keep writing (or if I even should). You've got to give me some feedback in order for me to know what to write for - what the things are that you want to see. Let me know.**

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><p>Monday morning came quickly—it was the day Lucius had been dreading for weeks now. The day of the trial. Two ministry officials were going to arrive at Malfoy Manor that morning to escort Lucius to the courtroom, where Narcissa and Draco were going to meet him there later after all of his case briefings were set. They were planning on sitting in the top right box, watching him from above, behind him as always. Lucius had argued that he didn't want them to hear all the evidence the ministry had against him, all the claims and readings and files and proof that he was an awful man that deserved every dementor-filled cell of Azkaban from now for the rest of his life. But Narcissa was a supporting wife. She just put a hand on his arm and assured him that they were a family, and wouldn't let one of their own suffer by themselves. So he'd relaxed a little. But only slightly; he still had a very tense day ahead.<p>

As he got dressed and attempted to make himself look as sophisticated as possible, Narcissa watched like she usually did. Her perfect form sitting on the bedside, barely making a dent in the neatly made blankets. She spoke encouraging words to him; she even promised that when they won his freedom, she'd personally make his favorite dinner—boiled lobsters cooked especially by her; he told her on every special occasion that she made them that no house elf in the entire wizarding world knew how to get the met as perfectly tender or the shells as brightly crimson. There was simply no one else in the universe that could cook a lobster like Narcissa Malfoy.

She looped the tie around his neck, letting her warm breath linger on his skin the way she knew he liked it. But suddenly she straightened, looking up as if listening for something. She lowered her eyes. She quickly pulled away from Lucius, making her way to the door. "It's Draco," she murmured, more to herself than to him. Her husband looked at her with a confused expression. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"He just let out a cry. I have to go make sure he'd not having another panic attack."

"You heard it from this wing?"

"…Lucius, when you're a mother you train your ears to listen for your child's voice."

He watched as she hurried out of the room, quickly making her way down the hall to Draco's bed. Ever since the war, the child hadn't been quite right—he was extremely nervous all the time, more anxious if the topic of conversation was anything about that time period or the Dark Lord or Azkaban or dementors or Unforgivables and honestly there wasn't much you _couldn't_ say around Draco to make him go into panic. His son needed help, he knew it. But he could calm down when Narcissa tended to him—as if she had all the answers. Maybe he didn't need answers; maybe he just needed to be told the right thing. Lucius finished looping the tie himself, glancing over his reflection in the mirror one more time. It was time.

Lucius waited in the sitting room nearest to the front doors of the Manor, so that it wouldn't take long for him to get up and answer the door when the officials arrived. He heard Narcissa walking by on the loft upstairs, so he glanced up to see her carrying a bowl and fresh towels to Draco's room. She sighed. "He's throwing up. I think he's just nervous." she informed. Lucius closed his eyes. "All the more reason for you to stay home today," he muttered. She stopped walking.

"We're not staying here and leaving you to face this alone. It's a decision that I've made for myself and my son." she said.

Lucius was almost afraid she was upset for a moment(something that rarely happened), but that sweet, gentle smile returned, and he knew that she was only trying to help in whatever way she could. She stepped away from the railing to continue walking to Draco's room.

Within ten minutes' time, there came a knock on the huge double doors. Lucius answered. Just as they'd promised, two ministry officials stepped inside to use Side-Along-Apparition to get to the courtroom. He let himself be taken. In just another hour, Narcissa and Draco would be sitting behind him, watching his trial, supporting him as always. He could only pray they weren't targeted next. The two men had to walk a pretty far distance to get to the end of the property line—strict magical wards prevented any Apparation or Disapparation on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Finally, after crossing that barely noticeable line of brown grass blades, the three closed their eyes, and instantly disappeared.

The trial was long, harsh, and grueling. As expected. Lucius kept glancing up at the box where his wife and son were supposed to be sitting but were nowhere in sight. Draco must've really been sick. He hoped this wasn't going to be a chronic illness for much longer. The verdict came back, and after rising before the court, Lucius Malfoy was cleared from sentence in Azkaban. He was free. But the best news to him was that the entire Malfoy name was clear—his wife and son wouldn't have to serve either. He glanced over at the prosecutor's side of the courtroom. Harry Potter just gave one nod. Lucius knew what he was thinking. _Free the family but not the man. Let Lucius serve but keep his wife and son out of this._ _They weren't as bad as he was._ But it didn't matter—because no one in the Malfoy family was going to have to rot in the horrible prison. Potter didn't get his way. Although Lucius did hold a certain amount of respect for him (mainly due to the fact that he alone brought down the Dark Lord), it was only a leveled amount. He was still a Potter. That would never change.

Lucius opened the doors to Malfoy Manor eager to see his family to tell them the news. "Narcissa!" he called as he stepped inside. The doors swung shut behind him. As he turned to switch the lock on it, he noticed that the little pin that usually clicked into its hole to bar the handles shut was broken. Bent. He studied it for a moment. How had he not noticed it from before? Bellatrix had been famous for never knocking before entering a room; she must've blow the lock apart when she stayed here. But it was no matter—Lucius had bigger things to think about. Feeling freer than he had in his entire life, he ran up the stairs with a smile on his face. Right to Draco's room. "Narcissa, Draco!" The door was closed. Wouldn't Narcissa leave it open in case she had to run to get something for him? Lucius gingerly twisted the doorhandle. "We're free—"

He wasn't prepared for the sight he saw.

The room was empty. The bed was a mess, bowls and cups and plates were smashed into shards everywhere. Lucius stepped inside, staring as if in shock. Suddenly, he stomach lurched. He felt like retching. There was a rope loop hanging around the bedpost, tied perfectly to match one used to bind someone's wrists together. There was blood in Draco's bed. Covering it. Sheets, blankets, mattress—and that rope. Lucius felt himself start shaking. No, not his son. Not his Draco. He noted that the blood was semi-dry; this must've happened recently. Under his feet, clumps of Narcissa's hair littered the floor. As if someone dragged her by her beautiful blonde locks. How? How could this happen? Who could get in past the magical wards? Why now? "_Narcissa?! Draco?!_" he shouted now, panic running through him like a fire.

He was the only person in the house.

Lucius immediately firecalled the Auror office for an investigation of his house. While he tried to sound brave and confident, his voice faltered and he ended up sitting on the floor crying his eyes out. The officials showed up in ten mintues. Two men and a woman went through the entire Manor, leaving little magical light orbs wherever they found "evidence"—the blood in the bed, the rope, the dent in the bedroom doorframe, the wands left behind by his missing loved ones, the pot of water that was left boiling on the stove. "Has your wife ever left the oven on?" one of the Auror asked. Lucius shook her head. "She starts something and doesn't stop until it's finished. She's always been that way." he replied. It took so long to go through the Manor. But there were more clues in the east wing—Draco's side. "There was a struggle," the female Auror said. "It's evident that either your wife or your son tried to fight the intruder off, but couldn't. The nicks in the door, the broken glass, the blood we found on the floor and the spatter on the railing. Keep an open mind about this; we're going to do everything to get them back. It may just be a ransom kidnapping. The person could just be wanting money or wanting you to suffer or something like that. We can't just jump to the conclusion that they're dead, because we'll need more evidence to track where they could've been taken to. Our leader wants us to camp out here for a while to look into the entire situation, so do you have a place you can stay while we occupy?"

"I'll go to the cottage," Lucius said, voice hoarse with worry. "I don't know where they could be. No one would want us to be in pain or suffering—I just was cleared of charges. I….I-I can't imagine life without them. I just want them back! I want my perfect family life again!"

"I know. We're going to find them for you, and everything will be alright." She looked over at the picture on the Draco's bedside—the one where they were all posing for a perfect family portrait; the one that had Bellatrix cut out so that it was just the three of them. "You have a beautiful family, Mr. Malfoy." she remarked. Lucius nodded. "They're absolutely everything a man could want." he said, a small smile creeping onto his lips. Unfortunately, the Auror happened to look over in this instant. He couldn't go back to frowning quick enough to hide it from her.

Lucius Malfoy had already told the Aurors three lies. It was only the beginning.


	4. One Day Gone

**Time to get things moving! I hope you like this! Who do you suspect?**

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><p>Lucius wasn't prepared to get up the next morning and go for an interview with <em>The Daily Prophet<em> concerning his missing wife and son. Not about his release, not his clearance of charges, but of the fact that his family had been stolen from him. Everything else regarding him was irrelevant. They only wanted to know about Narcissa and Draco. He laid in the bare bed of the small cottage the family only used when Draco was little, refusing to get up and face the day. This wasn't supposed to happen—his family was supposed to make the front page with joyous news, not more bad stuff. He turned over, putting an arm over his eyes. It took twenty more minutes to actually convince himself to get up and face the day.

And then he was running late.

Lucius threw on some clothes (which were the same as he'd worn the day before—the Aurors didn't want him removing anything from the Manor) and tried to do a freshening spell upon himself. However, it only really erased the sleep from his eyes; the rest of him, his hair and gray streaks, weren't affected. He Apparated away from the cottage since it didn't have any wards, arriving safely at Hogsmeade, where the conference was taking place.

To say Lucius was stunned by the turnout was and understatement.

There were a ton of people there—women, children, older teens, people he didn't remember ever knowing. The Aurors waved him. The same Auror woman he'd talked to the day before stepped before him. "Now here's the plan," she said, reading over her notebook. "We're going to have you get up and talk first, then Narcissa's family will go next, and then I'll give a fact report. _The Daily Prophet_ will be taking pictures and writing out your responses, and they'll help spread the word about your family's disappearance. Doing alright?" Lucius let out a sigh and rubbed his face. "Fine," he said. She wasn't sure if he which part of her speech he was addressing. But she didn't have time to ask. _The Daily Prophet_ spokesman called everyone's attention forward. "May I have your attention please? We're ready to start! Can I have everyone's attention?" The murmuring turnout all faced directly to the front of the Three Broomsticks, where a small podium was set up beside a big picture of the same picture they'd used against Lucius in court previously—the picture of Narcissa cuddling Draco in her arms right after the Battle of Hogwarts; one of those shots that a reporter snagged while the two of them didn't know. Draco was crying and holding onto her, she was tenderly stroking his hair. Lucius wasn't in the shot. The Aurors in court had pointed this out, stating that clearly he wasn't connected with his family and didn't stop to comfort them after the Dark Lord's defeat. Lucius couldn't look at the picture. He couldn't stand to see Draco crying like that, especially when he imagined the boy sobbing as a man tried to…

An Auror escorted Lucius up to the stand. Everyone's eyes shot to him, glaring, judging. How could this ex-Death Eater be free one day, and caught up in all this the next? He cleared his throat uncomfortably. It suddenly felt very hot up there. "I'm Lucius Malfoy. Husband of Narcissa, father of Draco." he said. What else was there to say? "If you know where my wife and child are, please come forward. Please give us any information you may have. Thank you." He stepped aside. A few people whispered to each other. The female Auror glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Narcissa's family stepped up—Druella and Cygnus Black, as well as a middle-aged woman who was very pretty, but looked frighteningly similar to Bellatrix. Lucius had no idea who this was and why she was standing with Narcissa's parents. "Greetings, everyone." Druella began. "Thank you all for coming and showing your support for our lost loved ones. It's like an oasis in our desert of despair to see that there are so many wonderful people out there willing to help us. I'm Druella Black, Narcissa's mother, Draco's grandmother. This is my husband, Cygnus Black, who is father and grandfather to our daughter's family respectively. We are so grateful to you all for assisting us in the search for our beautiful, sweet, brave daughter and her precious little son. If anyone would like to help in the investigation and search for Narcissa and Draco, we've organized teams to help us with parts of the search. The stations are set up across Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley—we figured they would be most accessible to people if they wanted to stop in. You can sign up to help search woods, distribute flyers, dive into waters, and help with charting and mapping. We can't express our family's gratitude to you for your unending efforts." She stepped down from the podium, Cygnus wrapping an arm around her protectively. The Bellatrix-look-alike went up next. "As my mother has said, we are very grateful for our support in this difficult time. My name is Andromeda Tonks—I'm Narcissa's older sister." _Oldest,_ Lucius smirked. "I came to speak on behalf of my wonderful sister, who grew up the sweetest and most innocent of all of us Black sisters. I knew she'd be a wonderful mother when she grew up. And indeed she was. My nephew Draco is one of the gentlest, most timid, misunderstood boys out there. We need to find them because they are a family; if they're separated or something happens to one and not the other it will literally destroy them." Andromeda paused, wiping tears off her cheeks. She stepped away from the podium. Druella opened her arms and caught her in a hug. Apparently Andromeda was allowed back into the family again.

The Auror got up to speak next; giving the fact report as she said. "Hello, everyone. Thank you for attending. I'm Detective Dora Tenner, and I've been assigned special casework for this event. I have evidence to report to you all that will aid in the specification of where to search and possibly what to look for." She went on and on describing the scene when they arrived at the Manor, telling how much blood there was, what was broken, every single nick they discovered so far. The five people stood around the photograph of Narcissa and Draco, all looking somber and tearful as _The Daily Prophet_ took snapshot after snapshot. The crowd began swarming again, all shouting and asking how they could sign up to help find the missing Malfoys. Lucius stepped aside with Dora. "We scanned the blood in the bed." she said rather abruptly. Lucius made a noise. "It was Draco's." she finished. Although the thought stung him, he didn't reply. She waited another second or two to keep going. "We also did an analysis on the marks on the walls and doors of your home. From what we can tell so far, they were from fingernails. Long fingernails. We're assuming they're Narcissa's. The hair was hers as well. The person used a pretty strong sealant spell though, because no fingerprints of his are anywhere; I've seen that sort of stuff before—killer doesn't want to be found out, so he leave evidence to make it look like a suicide or something." Lucius snapped his head over to glare at her at the mention of the word 'killer'. "You said before…that we weren't going to jump to such _conclusions_." he sneered. Dora looked at him a little strangely, eyeing his facial expressions. "Alright," she said smoothly. "My mistake. I misspoke." The two turned away from each other staring back at the crowd. Andromeda and Druella were passing out flyers with a picture of Narcissa and Draco on them while Cygnus answered questions from anxious people about the investigation so far. Lucius sighed. "Who would've ever thought all of these people who hated the Malfoys so much just a few months ago would be so eager to help them?" he murmured, looking at all the women who were crying over Draco's picture, all the older people speaking about Narcissa and calling her 'the woman who stopped the war'. Dora let out a breath, looking out of the corner of her eye to catch the smirk on Lucius's face. "Keep in mind which Malfoys they're wanting to be saved." she quipped.

And before Lucius could respond or turn to glance at her, she was walking away towards a crowd of reporters who were desperate for answers regarding the findings in Malfoy Manor.


	5. Two Days Gone

**Ooooohhh here we go! What do you think - guilty or innocent?**

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><p>Lucius spent the night in the cottage again. They were all still investigating Malfoy Manor, which in his opinion was taking a very long time and getting nowhere. A restless night. Barely any sleep. When dawn broke, the small fireplace lit up with green flames—an indication he had a firecall coming in. Lucius scrambled out of bed, wondering if this was a ransom call or any information towards where his wife and son might be. Dora's face appeared in the fire. "Mr. Malfoy?" she asked. He crouched onto his knees; perhaps they'd found something. "Speaking," he said. It came out a lot gruffer than he'd expect it too, and he mentally cursed his morning voice. She paused for a moment—seemingly reading his expression—and then went on. "We're furthering our investigations into this crime scene. But <em>The Daily Prophet<em> has become suspicious and started raising eyebrows. They want to know why we haven't taken you into questioning yet." A long silence passed. What on earth do you say to that? Lucius sneered. "And why haven't you?" Apparently that wasn't the right thing to say, because Dora's eyes flicked open wider as if she realized she was miles from home and forgot to turn off the iron. She appeared a little speechless. Lucius instantly became aware of how challenging that sounded (and honestly suspicious) so he tried to make light of it. "You know, as in why would they be thinking you're not doing your job? After that press conference I don't see how they would want to see if I'm guilty." Even worse.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you want my honest opinion I can tell you that hardly anybody found you to be convincing yesterday." Dora replied. Silence. "Now the reason why I haven't called you in for any type of formal questioning is because I don't believe you did it. Is that what you've wanted to hear? There's someone out there that thinks you didn't have anything to do with your wife and son's disappearance. But the public likes to believe the disappearances are because of a force _close to home_. So I'm asking if you'd be here at the Ministry of Magic—Auror Office—this morning at ten o'clock for a formal questioning. Don't worry. It's all just routine stuff. Whenever someone goes missing unexpectedly we always look into the close family and friends first. Not because they're usually guilty but because it just eases the public's mind. So will you be here?"

More questions. More things he couldn't answer. More things he didn't want to answer. Lucius sighed, looking down at the smoldered logs in the fireplace and tracing a pattern in the ashes with his eyes. "I will," he answered. Dora thanked him and reminded him of the time once more. The moment the flames disappeared, Lucius put his head in his hands. Narcissa and Draco, Narcissa and Draco, Narcissa and Draco. Did anyone care about what he was thinking? What he was feeling? He'd spent months and months both during and after the war trying to figure out what was behind his wife's smile, what she held in that brain. Now, nobody even cared to see what was in his. It was always about her; the girl with the Death Eater husband, 'the woman who stopped the war'. Lucius stood up from the floor, thinking hard as he made his way across the room. And Draco, what did everyone believe Draco was? Bullied. Pushed into his role in the war by a father that was jailed for not being able to carry out all orders. At first, students and the younger population hated him; they loathed his status, his actions. But after the fallout of the Battle of Hogwarts, when the paper revealed him to be a broken, scared little boy, people began their pitying. And out of all this? Lucius was still the one being tried for treason. Lucius was the one that had to go to court and deal with evidence being thrown at him and Azkaban sentences pushed into his face. Lucius was the one that people were still skeptical about. All this happens and he's left as the one person that literally had his world robbed from him, and they are beginning to think he did it?!

In a fit of mental rage, he gripped the edge of the barren table and flipped it completely over.

…. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A few hours later, Lucius calmly sat before Dora and another Auror, a wandtip placed against his bared elbow's pressure point. "I'm going to ask you a set of questions. Don't worry, they're all routine. Just things we have to ask to dispel suspicion. Brade's got his wand on your vein because it'll be sensing your pulse—and when we're done, the results will show whether you've lied or not. But don't worry, this is all routine. It's normal in a kidnapping case." Dora recited. Lucius didn't reply. "Now the first question: do you have any idea where your missing wife, Narcissa, and your son, Draco, could be?" she proceeded.

"No," came Lucius's answer.

"Did you have anything to do with their disappearance at all?"

"No,"

"Did you know of anyone that could have posed as a threat to your family?"

"No,"

"Was Narcissa at any point in your marriage afraid of you?"

"…Afraid of me? _Afraid_ of me?! After everything I've done for her?! I kept her safe, I did everything in my power to decrease her chance of unfair punishment from the Dark Lord! I proved to her how strong my love for our family was! How dare you ask me if she was afraid of me?!"

"Mr. Malfoy, we require just a 'yes' or a 'no'. Please."

"…No."

"And your son Draco? Was he ever…afraid of you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Have you ever been seduced by the influence of alcohol or any cognition-effecting potions?"

"No."

"Did your wife express any fear or unhappiness with her life within thirty days prior to the date of disappearance?"

"Not at all."

"Did Draco ever need to be hospitalized at St. Mungo's for injuries or illnesses after the time of the Battle of Hogwarts up until the date of disappearance?"

"Never."

"Can you tell us of a time where this sort of thing has happened before? For example, have you ever before come home and found that your wife or son was gone unexpectedly, even if they did leave a note explaining where they had intended to be?"

"Not that I can remember,"

"And finally: do you have a history of a bad temper?"

"Of course not."

The wandtip was removed from Lucius's arm, and he rolled down his sleeve. Dora tried to smile calmly at him. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Again, Lucius just made a noise that could be taken as an agreement or a sarcastic dismissal. Brade began unrolling a scroll and murmuring an incantation as he touched his wand to the blank parchment. Dora rose to escort Lucius out of the ministry doors. "We'll call you if anything breaks in the case. You're allowed to go back to the Manor and get your own personal belongings if you want now. There will be Aurors around though. The investigation isn't complete. You'll have to present identification if you want to enter the scene; don't feel like you can't get into your own house, by all means—"

"Miss Tenner. I understand. Now if you'll excuse me…" Lucius interrupted, stepping past her to get away from this place, the questions, the recognition. If people wanted to think something about him then let them do it—what did he care. He was just so over all this. The Aurors weren't doing a very good job of locating the missing people, nor were they coming up with any substantial evidence as to who did it or why this could've happened. Lucius felt he owed them nothing. Not even the truth.

Dora watched as the tall man stalked away from her as if he didn't have to worry about a word people were saying. She turned back into her small office, where Brade was leaning over the freshly transcribed pulse reading with his head in his hands. "Tenner, you're not going to believe this." he said when she stepped inside. She moved a little quicker over to the desk where he was sitting. There were spikes and troughs all over the place in this graph—it didn't make it look promising. She glanced at her partner for a clue as to what that all actually meant. She wasn't a specialist in reading these lie-detectors; she was the one that would use the findings of them for or against a suspect. Brade gulped and turned a paling face up to Dora.

"He only told the truth for two questions out of all ten."


	6. Three Days Gone

**The plot thickens!**

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><p>Dora firecalled Lucius back to the Auror Office in the Ministry of Magic the very next day. He hadn't even had time that morning to get up and read the paper—or have his tea. He was beginning to become a little annoyed with the running back and forth every time one of those bloody Aurors found a new speck of dust near a bed or under a cabinet and wanted it to be researched and accepted as a clue. He showed up, disgruntled, and sat where Brade offered him a chair. Dora leaned across the table to stare at him. "We've made a breakthrough," she said. Now this was interesting. At least something had been done. "Although we're hesitating to call it a 'breakthrough' just yet. But once we pair it with evidence already collected, we'll be extremely advanced in this case." she continued, summoning a plastic bag from one of the shelves behind them with her wand. She didn't touch anything at all; she just used her wand to unseal it, pull a book out, and set it on the table. "Were you aware that Narcissa kept a diary?" she asked. Lucius raised an eyebrow at the small red book—nothing they owned in their house was ever <em>red<em>. "I remember her mentioning that she enjoyed writing down her thoughts. You know, when the Dark Lord was occupying our residence. But I've never seen that specific book." he recalled. Dora watched him, using her wand to flip the pages open to an entry. There was a yellow tab placed there. "Would you like to take a look at this, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, sending it forward a bit.

Lucius looked down. "Is that your wife's handwriting?" Dora questioned next. Was it? He didn't remember ever needing to read anything she wrote. "I-It…It might be, I don't know." he murmured, more interested in reading the diary entry than answering more stupid questions. Dora watched his expression as his eyes traveled down the page.

_5 March 1998_

_I talked to Draco today. It was a nice talk—one that we haven't had the chance to engage in for so long. The Dark Lord had called a Death Eater meeting before, and when Draco was finished, he went straight to his room. I followed him. I knew he was crying. It's been a year since he failed his horrible assigned task, and he still loathes himself for even attempting to do. He's disgusted with himself. We sat on the bed together, talking quietly because I didn't want anyone to hear us (like Bella—she's always blamed me of babying my son). He held my hand. We talked. We actually talked! For so long he's been broken and distanced from absolutely everyone; I felt like I had my little boy back. I had to leave after a while though (Bella wanted to discuss something), and so I just hugged him and rocked him for every single second I could. He doesn't get this sort of comfort from anyone else in his family. I miss him._

Lucius looked up once he finished reading. What was the big deal about that? It was just a simple diary entry. Nothing suspicious or incriminating. Were these Aurors stupid enough to think it was Bellatrix that kidnapped them? Dora calmly had the diary flip itself open to another page marked with a pink tag. "How about you take a look at this one?" she said.

_24 June 1998_

_He's scared. My baby boy is scared. Constantly. He's been so nervous for so long that he's actually physically ill. I don't know what to do. I think he's afraid that our family is falling apart—and frankly, so am I. I don't know why this keeps flashing through my mind, but I think Lucius is ashamed of me. I think he's ashamed that I helped the Potter boy—that I lied to the Dark Lord. If we had remained loyal and continued our service to him, we would've been back in power. We were promised that. I think that Lucius secretly wanted that sort of influence again (after being the scum of the earth for so long) and I went and disobeyed—no, lied—to the Dark Lord. And it cost us everything. It made me look good, but it made Lucius look terrible. Now he'll go to Azkaban and I'll stay free and it's just killing me to know I messed everything up. When I looked down at that boy, so pained and broken, I saw a mother's baby. I saw Lily Potter (who was in my year; who was my potions partner for a little while) holding a little bundle in her arms, reveling in the fact that she'd succeeded in birthing a child—something that I'd done when Draco was born (especially since it was so hard to conceive and maintain a pregnancy). I saw Draco in Harry. If my baby was on the brink of death, he'd need a mummy to save him. So I lied. I indirectly brought down the lives of two great men—Lord Voldemort, and my husband._

This one made Lucius a little uneasy. Narcissa was blaming herself. And she was making it sound like she was afraid of what would happen if she didn't. He was immediately reminded of one of the investigative questions Dora and Brade asked him yesterday: was Narcissa or Draco ever afraid of him. Dora gave a nod, swiping her wand once more to get the pages to flick nearer towards the end. A black tab marked this entry—not a good sign.

_October 2, 1998_

_I don't know what to do. Lucius and I had an argument (for the millionth time) and it got so bad that I actually placed protection charms around Draco's bed. He told me he was too frightened to sleep without them. Yes, there it is—he admitted he was scared of his own father. How could I let this happen? I don't know what to do anymore. Lucius is upset about the fact that he has to go for a trial to see if he'll be thrown into Azkaban again. I really hate to say this to myself, and I keep denying it because I don't want it to be true: Lucius is taking out his frustrations on us. He yelled at Draco today; told him to stop his petulant whining. Draco isn't whining, he's desperately crying out for help! Doesn't Lucius understand what this poor boy has been through? He even watched his childhood friend die! I tried to step in and tell Lucius not to say such things in front of our son, but apparently he was angry at everyone, and he threw me against a wall. All I remember is how much it hurt to have the back of my skull smack against the stone, and how he didn't even feel enough regret to help me up. He stormed out of the room as angry as can be. Draco was too stunned for tears. He felt to the ground with me, and this time, he held me in his arms and rocked me—opposite how it usually is. That is how I knew we'd hit rock bottom. I can't believe I'm actually saying this…after such a long time of being married….what is happening? I regret even writing it out on paper, in a journal nobody would even see, nobody's even aware of—that's how much it pains me…_

_I'm afraid that my husband is going to kill me and my son._

Lucius's eyes widened a little bit at this. What on earth? Where had _this_ come from? He'd never given her any reason to be afraid of him! Sure, they'd have their arguments, but how could she transform it into a fear like this? Dora was sending him a different kind of look; one that was suspicious and stern. "Lucius," she said softly. "You've got a lot of explaining to do." The blonde man glanced down at that journal. Narcissa had been writing everything down? What else was in there? "Isn't it convenient," he spoke in a quiet voice. "That this is the last journal entry?" Dora looked as if she'd been slapped in the face. Brade appeared on the verge of an explosion. Lucius realized in that second that he was very bad at saying the right things; he'd meant to raise a suspicion towards a stalker or to any other indication that she'd been abducted, yet his voice made it seem like he'd timed the killing right. "It's quite convenient, Mr. Malfoy." Dora said through pursed lips. "Quite convenient indeed."

Until they could get more evidence, it wasn't justified to make an arrest yet. Lucius was sent home. Dora and Brade called in the Black family to identify Narcissa's handwriting, to read what was written in her diary, to see if she'd ever mentioned a fear of Lucius before. All that was left to do was wait. In the evening, Lucius sat by the fire in the cottage and read the late edition of _The Daily Prophet_; the title page shocked him. Apparently, the media had already found out about the diary just within a few hours of it being brought to even his attention. The front headline said in bold letters: "LUCIUS MALFOY—A DARK LORD OF HIS OWN" And there it was. Right there for the entire wizarding world to see. His picture beside a detailed article regarding what was in his missing wife's diary—her fears, her love for her son, the beatings, the guilt, the secrets. What was in her head? Well, she certainly clarified that. All that time he'd spent wondering, thinking, imagining about it…

And now the whole world seemed to know, and he still didn't have a clue.


	7. Four Days Gone

**Let me know what you think of _this!_**

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><p><em>It's so much easier being dead.<em>

_I'm sitting on a train with Draco, miles away from Wiltshire, from that hell that we were supposed to call home, and I feel no regret whatsoever. I hold Draco's hand beside me. He's resting his head against the train window, finally sleeping. It's been so long since he's been able to just close his eyes and fall asleep; I think it was because of his environment. He looks so quiet. Anyway, we're on our way to Diagon Alley—leaving the wands behind was a smart idea, but we'll need new ones if we want to keep running. Thankfully that old wandmaker is so decrepit that he won't see through us. I'm hoping that maybe we'll get different models this time, although I suppose getting something similar wouldn't be bad either. I just don't want to be recognized. All the effort and thought I put into this escape had made anything suspicion-raising immediately ridiculous._

_I've been planning this for months._

_At first it started as a simple idea to take Draco and leave while the war was still going on. Although I knew that was a stupid idea, considering everyone was out checking every crevice for Potter. They'd find us in an instant. So I knew I had to wait. And then after the war we couldn't just disappear because everyone was all focused on catching the Death Eaters and sending them to Azkaban—running away then would just look like we were trying to hide from guilt. So I played. I played the good wife, the loving, supportive, strong wife that would stand by her husband no matter what. I really just wanted him sentenced. Throw him into Azkaban and let him rot there for what he's done to my life, my family. Or put him in for at least two years and then let him come back to an empty manor. I was ready for a divorce long before he even was jailed the first time. So, I had to make a getaway. And what better a time than when Lucius was going on trial? I knew he'd get off. The bloody bastard would always get off. Why? Because his perfect wife was 'the-woman-who-stopped-the-war'. That won him points. It did nothing for me, the one who needed to get away, but for him? It got him out of jail. Perfect Cissy, as Bella would say, Perfect Cissy is always helping others even when she doesn't realize it. It's true though. All those years of her saying that as a child, swearing it wasn't true. It was._

_So I took charge for the second time in my life; the first was denouncing the Potter boy dead. Now this. I played everything out perfectly. First, I kept a "diary". The first few parts of it were true of course—I had to be portrayed as the naïve woman who was scared in her own home with the Dark Lord there—but the second part was a little…creative. Lucius and I would fight. Hell yes, we would fight. Battles, screaming matches, bringing Draco to tears. Did he ever tell my son that he was weak? Of course. But he would always do that Slytherin apology, claiming it was the war trauma and the previous Azkaban stay that was making him outburst. So I was forgiving, gentle, understanding. Two days before the trial, I told Draco of my plan. I went to his room in the middle of the night (telling Lucius I heard him crying, of course) and I sat with him. I told him what we were going to do. The minute those guards took Lucius off the grounds, we set out._

_Draco was a cutter. I found out one horrible day when I found him in the bathroom doing it over the tub. He'd apologized to me so profusely, saying he couldn't help himself, telling me it was his only escape. So that day, I encouraged him to do it one more time before stopping forever; he did it. He slit his wrist, letting his arm bleed out onto the bed. Then I told him we had to act like there was a struggle. I grabbed him, tied a loop around his hands, let him bleed; I then let him free, pushed him to the floor, let him bleed; and lastly, I threw him against the door (all of this was done gently and slowly of course), let him bleed. I had him shake his wrist to send the blood droplets flying. He was actually smiling—smiling at the fact that his last time of succumbing to his depression was literally being used as an escape from what was tormenting him. Next, I pricked my own fingers to leave a few drops of my own blood for investigators to find. I used a hair-loss spell to cause a lot of strands to fall out. And I left them in a messy trail. I sealed Draco's wound and regrew my own hair, but we then had to change our looks. Thankfully, I grew up learning from Andie (who liked to change her hair color often just to annoy Mother) when it came to dress-up. I turned our hair into a soft red color—more reddish-brown. I knew that if anyone recognized our facial shape, they'd immediately think twice about Malfoys choosing anything red (or redheaded, for that matter). I gave Draco my old glasses from my early years. And there—two completely different people._

_Draco suggested we cover up the last used spell on our wands. But I was prepared. I brought in a spider and a caterpillar—I used the stupefy curse on the arachnid, Draco stunned the worm. I then threw my wand to the wall like it had been ripped away from me; Draco's went into the drawer where it always rested. We put gloves on. We threw glasses and cups, smashing and shattering them into oblivion. And we laughed. We laughed while we were doing this. We were free. Draco and I ripped our clothes (not entirely ragged, but enough to not look so prim and proper) and made our way out the door, hand-in-hand. I took off my heel and smacked it against the lock until it broke. And then we left. We left it all behind._

_So for the past few days, we've been laying low in a way. We slept in a forest one night to get more dirty and convincing. Lots of people were in shambles after the war destroyed their families or homes. We'd fit right into Diagon Alley. We're going to rent a little cottage and live there all on our own. We'll be happy. Draco yawns in his sleep, curling his fingers a little tighter. I can't help but smile. He's so sweet—such a sweet boy. He'll finally be able to leave the mess behind now. The mess that portrayed him as a horrible backstabbing traitor. It feels wonderful to finally be rid of that man and his manor. It's like we're starting over, and it's wonderfully freeing._

_And now everyone's going to think that Lucius is responsible. With the evidence I've left, it'll be impossible for him not to be convicted. He'll rot in Azkaban after all._

_It's what he deserves for taking away my happiness._


	8. Five Days Gone

**Just a quick one for now to move the story along. Glad you're liking this so far!**

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><p>Dora passed Andromeda a cup of water across the table. The Black family was now in for questioning. Brade and another Auror sat at the circular table as well, readying their quills and notepads for the information that would begin pouring out of this family's mouth. Crucial time. "Alright," Dora sighed, shuffling some papers around before her. "Thank you all for being here. Please know that we're doing everything we can to help locate your missing loved ones. Your presence and information is vital in our investigations, and we encourage you to say everything you know, please. It'll only return them faster." Cygnus nodded gravely. Druella sat up straighter as if the information would come out of her easier that way. "Now Mr. and Mrs. Black, you had three children, correct?" Dora continued as she slipped reading glasses over her eyes. "Indeed," Cygnus answered. "We had three daughters."<p>

"Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa?" Dora said.

"That's right. Cissy was the youngest."

"How would you describe Narcissa as a child?"

"She was very smart. She was such a brilliant girl—she always got good marks, wanted the best for everyone, and saw a solution to every problem."

"If I may add something to that," Andromeda quietly requested, clearing her throat a little. Dora was more than happy to agree to it. "I married a Muggle man years ago, which earned me a disowning from the Black family. Bella was more than happy to fuel the fire against me, but Narcissa actually…she actually…er, e-excuse me…" Andromeda wiped her eyes on her handkerchief. "Narcissa actually went to our parents and personally asked them not to do it…not to remove me from the family tree…" Tears sparkled in Druella's eyes too. "She was such a good-hearted girl…" she whispered.

"So Narcissa never seemed to have any prejudice towards other beings, is that correct?" Dora asked, passing a fresh tissue to the mother and daughter.

"She had strong beliefs in blood purity, no doubt about it. That's part of the reason why Lucius married her. But she did have no prejudice against family; all she ever wanted was a perfect, loving, happy home. No matter what place 'home' might be." Druella responded.

"…Did she achieve that with Lucius?"

There was a pause in the conversation here; apparently none of the Black family members really knew what to say. Cygnus shut his eyes. "No…" he breathed softly. Dora just gave one nod; Brade wrote something in his notebook. "Tell us what you know of their relationship." she encouraged gently.

"Narcissa and Lucius married young," Cygnus stated. "They tried to conceive quickly so that an heir could be determined first and foremost before any more children were added to their family—to Lucius, that was essential. But it became more difficult than expected. Narcissa was having trouble maintaining a pregnancy. It took several years after their marriage to finally give birth to a baby—their one and only Draco. Narcissa often said that she felt that Lucius viewed her differently after that—after she couldn't produce him an heir as quickly as he would've liked. As if he almost…was disappointed in her. Anyway, for the first few years of Draco's life, Lucius was away working and spending long hours at the Ministry; Narcissa was alone. I've always known their relationship to have been very one-sided and very isolated for my daughter. But she's a good person, so she stayed. I reckon she stayed for Draco as well. I'm sure she wanted him to have a father to look up to."

"I see. So has Narcissa ever expressed any sort of…fear…in her relationship?"

"…That's something she kept to herself. Eventually we just no longer heard from her—I don't know if it's because Lucius made it so or because she just became too busy with raising a baby."

"Is there anyone we could look into to search for this information? Anyone that you know of?"

"…Narcissa had a close friend from her first year at Hogwarts until the very day she went missing. This woman was older than her, but kept an eye out for Narcissa when she needed it at school."

"Excellent. And who might that be?"

"…Molly Weasley."

Molly Weasley? The mother of the Weasley clan that the Malfoys were known to hate? _The_ Molly Weasley? Dora raised a questioning eyebrow, but nodded. "We'll get in contact with her immediately. Thank you for all the information you've granted us so far. We're doing everything we can to find your daughter and grandson—just a little bit longer. And then they'll be safe back at home again." she encouraged. Cygnus, Druella, and Andromeda all exchanged anxious looks. After Dora let the silence ask its own question, Andromeda took a deep breath in. "'Home' may be where the trouble is lurking."


	9. Six Days Gone

**Alright, next chapter! What's Narcissa going to do after this?**

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><p><em>I've done it! I've successfully managed to buy two wands of completely different material from our previous ones, and the wandmaker suspected nothing! Mine is now birch with a unicorn hair core, Draco's is mahogany with a dragon-heartstring core (although he hesitates to admit it—it was just like Lucius's old one). So tonight, to look less suspicious, we're sleeping out on the streets of Diagon Alley. I told the wandmaker our names were Mildred and Roger Vane; we lost our home in a Death Eater raid and our wands were snapped, so we're living on the run for now until we can find a more permanent home. I'm so relieved this actually worked. It's a believable story—we're going to get far with this one.<em>

_Right now, we sit on the curb outside along with all the other homeless war casualties. Of course we have money. I tricked Lucius into sweeping our vault just a few days before we ran away so that if I needed money to "bail him out" it would be readily available. All he did was sign the paper releasing our funds from Gringotts. I went and picked up the money. But when I got back, I told him that I'd only taken out a thousand Galleons because I didn't want anyone "breaking in" to steal the money. The idiot paid such little attention to me that he didn't even question it. So yes indeed, we do have more than enough money to last us for a very long time on our own. We're just acting out the part of being homeless._

_An older man reaches over and hands Draco a mug of some sort of stew a bunch of the other stranded magical people have been brewing. With trembling hands, Draco accepts—he's done a very good job with playing a character. As he sips at the steaming mug, his silver eyes dark across the page of a dirty old edition of The Daily Prophet; another one raising questions on our whereabouts. He reaches out with bony fingers to tap on my elbow. "Moth—Mummy," he corrects himself. A formal greeting of "mother" would look too suspicious, as it is usually something only pureblood wizards use. I turn my head, wrapping him into my arms nonchalantly—as if he asked for it. But as I cuddle him on my lap, I look down to follow where his discrete finger is pointing. "The Missing Malfoys—is Lucius Still a Killer?" the title reads. Our pictures are side by side, me and Draco, and Lucius's is beneath us._

_Where it belongs._

_I can tell that Draco's thinking that they're going to throw his father into Azkaban again—or maybe even kill him. Is he afraid? I'm sure he is. He spent so long trying to make Lucius happy—if he had known it would all come to this, he wouldn't have wasted his time. Finally, he vocalizes his fears. "They're going to suspect him, Mummy." he whispers so that no one around us will look on. I lean close to his ear, barely even whispering. "Very soon, baby….very soon…we'll be far away by then, though. He won't hurt us. They're going to arrest him as soon as they have more evidence, and then he'll be locked away forever." Draco shivers. But he has a small smile on his face. I can only take it to mean that he doesn't regret our choice to run away—it's actually making him feel freer._

_I hold him just a little bit closer. All the people to the left of us begin to cry out; yelling gratitude, begging, thanking. Someone must be coming over to donate money. Usually a person gives a few knuts to just one beggar, but this person seems to be walking down the line, handing out money to everyone. Oh no. I mentally swear inside my head._

_It's George Weasley._

_He looks almost the same as he has since he was a child—except there's a little hint of that typical grin missing from his eyes. Sure, he smiles at everyone he hands a Galleon to, but his brown eyes are rather empty. Almost like they're looking for something. Apparently the joke shop is doing so well, he has Galleons to spare. Quickly, I reach over and dig my fingernails into the dirt, bringing them up again to smear more imperfections across Draco's pale skin as well as my own. We will be recognized. Especially if he remembers Bellatrix's features—if I ever thought I looked anything like my older sister, now would be the time to be proved wrong. He's coming closer. Wait…_

_How young do I look?_

_Quickly I bend down to Draco's ear again, skillfully sweeping a hand up my skirt concealed by all the begging people. "Draco," I whisper, barely audible again. "Mummy's pregnant," I see his silver eyes raise up to meet mine, clearly understanding (but at the same time inwardly panicking). He sits up. George Weasley is closer to us than before. He freezes when he finally makes eye contact with my son. Draco timidly blinks (perfectly in character) and clutches the half-empty cup of soup to him, George moving his eyes from him to finally me. Oh, I can so see my old friend Molly in him. She's right there, standing right in front of me like she always had, ready to ask me "Cissa, is that Malfoy boy bothering you again?" Almost subconsciously, I feel myself nodding as if I'd really heard that question. So George smiles a little sadly. He reaches out, placing a gold Galleon into Draco's hand, and two into mine. "For the little one on the way," he murmurs softly, just so only I can hear him. And just like that, he walks away._

_It's funny how I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt at all for lying to my husband, to the Auror branch, hell, to the entire wizarding world. But I feel sick to my unfertilized stomach for purposefully deceiving my once-best friend's son._


	10. One Week Gone

**This one is a little short, but I had to use it to move things along. What are you feeling about this? Thanks for reading!**

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><p>Lucius folded and unfolded his arms repeatedly as he stood outside the Forbidden Forest on the grounds of Hogwarts. Cygnus and Druella had organized a search party, and the press was there. Dora suggested he show up just because it would simply boost his image. So there he stood, not really helping, not really resenting his attendance. Cygnus approached him, hands folded behind his back. "Lucius," he said, looking out to the trees. "This is a difficult time. Not just for us. But for you too. Now the media likes to portray you as this…this monster who has no feelings towards his missing wife and son. But…I know you, Lucius. You just shut down when you think too hard. And that's what's happening." Lucius fought the urge to sneer at this man. He hadn't spoken to Cygnus for three years (or Druella, for that matter). How did he think he knew him? Knew his reactions? Knew who he really was? "You're so informed on my reactions and my opinions, Mr. Black; it's a wonder why they don't have you on the investigative team." he snidely remarked. Cygnus's mouth flapped open and shut a few times, just long enough for Lucius to swiftly turn away and walk over to the trees by himself.<p>

Damn these people, damn all of them for suspecting him. For using him. Nobody would understand what he had been going through at the time when Narcissa and Draco just had to go missing….they wouldn't get it. Lucius tiredly sank down against the wood of a tall tree in the shade, looking up at the sky with an exasperated breath. "Mr. Malfoy?" a female voice called from a distance. He looked to his right and saw a slender young woman rushing towards him. He knew her, he knew this girl. What was her name? Her bouncy black hair and tanned skin—oh, that's right. It was Melissa Thomas, Dean Thomas's mother. She sank down onto the ground beside him. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly. Why did she want to talk to him? Probably expecting some sort of new information—something never before heard. She just wanted to be 'in on it'. "Just fine," he sighed. She didn't leave.

"They're saying things about you."

"One thing they haven't said is that I'm completely oblivious to it." he sneered.

"It must just be tough for you. An innocent man loses his wife and son, his house his ransacked, the evidence is painful….I can't imagine having to go through it. And they're portraying you as this horrible man…"

Strangely, hearing that was comforting. "I appreciate your sympathy, Mrs. Thomas."

"Oh, just Ms. Thomas now. My husband and I divorced about a year ago. It's final now."

"…I see."

"You know what you could use? You need some comfort. Everyone is so determined to focus on Narcissa and Draco and the murder—"

"It was not murder!"

"A-Alright, ok, I'm sorry…er, what I mean is, everyone forgets you're a human too. So why not have just a little bit of good in your life again at this time? I'm going to make you a nice pumpkin pie. Just something to nibble at when you find your spirits are down. It's easy to raise hope when you've got good food in front of you."

"…It's fine, you don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to, silly! But I want to! I don't like to see you suffering so much."

Why did she give two hoots about him all of a sudden? He barely even knew her. Suddenly, a flashcube sent bright light shooting towards Lucius. And then someone was grabbing his arm. It was Dora. She pulled him up off the ground and yanked him away from the swarm of reporters that were beginning to swoop in, taking him over to the secluded place near the trees where the groups of searches were emerging for a water break. Dora looked furious. "Are you _trying_ to make yourself look bad?" she hissed. "I told you not to go talking to people about what you're feeling and what things are being looked into! I said you don't want people running around and spreading more rumors about you! What are you _thinking_, Lucius?!"

"I haven't done anything wrong! She came and sat down next to _me!_ It's not like I went looking for her!" he fumed back.

"But she can say whatever she wants now, regardless of what the truth is!"

"That's the problem with this entire case! It's all skirting around the issues, neither confirming nor denying the possibility that Narcissa had a stalker, or someone wanted to hurt Draco, or there were people that wanted revenge against my family! Nobody will say anything! You're letting them think it was me!"

"That's not true and you stop saying that. As professional Aurors, we're sworn to secrecy about case evidence. It's not like we can just throw ideas out there to the public while we're figuring everything out! It doesn't work. So you stop going around and thinking that we're not working on this."

"It has been a _week!_ And all that's come out of this so far is that everyone is starting to think I had something to do with it!"

Reporters were shouting at Ms. Thomas, cameras were flashing, she was answering questions that were thrown out at her. Dora looked at Lucius and slowly shook her head. She turned and began to walk back towards Brade, who'd struck up a conversation with Druella and Andromeda. "If I were you, I'd look into a lawyer." she called to Lucius over her shoulder. He made a face, a cross between disgusted and obviously confused, and then he looked back towards _The Daily Prophet_'s interrogation of Ms. Thomas. She was crying now. The media reporters were absolutely sucking that up, talking amongst themselves and deciding what the next news article was going to be about. They took in her answers, her state, and their own ideas.

And just like that, Lucius Malfoy suddenly had a 'girlfriend'.


	11. Eight Days Gone

**Here we go again! Things are really going to get moving here... Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><em>He just continues to screw himself.<em>

_I laugh every morning when I get _The Daily Prophet_ delivered and see the headlines. Now the bastard's going and looking sleazy with younger women! Well, the reporters certainly ate that up. I'm reading the paper now. Basically it's informing everyone that Lucius Malfoy gets guiltier and guiltier in his actions just by showing the world his newfound 'affectionate' side for other women while I'm missing. Is this Thomas woman anything to him? Absolutely not. I'm 100% sure of it. But I am sure that his stupidity and obliviousness to others and the world around him are what's going to get him tossed away into Azkaban. Isn't this the lesson I'm trying to teach him? That the world does not revolve around Lucius Malfoy alone? I think it's hitting him hard. He never was a particularly good student. He just charmed his way to his teacher's marks._

_Draco and I are finally settled into a delightful little cottage just far enough away from civilization, but still in a small community of dwellers that enjoy a peaceful living outside the chaotic disruption of the post-war world. The cottage came furnished (although not what we're used to) and we go out to the store for food every now and then. Draco has taken a liking to cooking for me. It's nice to see him smiling again. He doesn't beam, he doesn't laugh, but he gives a gentle little twitch of the lips as he tells me to step away from the stove and sit down in a chair. He then goes and begins making all sorts of things for dinner—and I must say, they're quite good. He's clearly earned a culinary talent from me. We eat together every night, then we go and talk about all the strings of newspaper headlines we've saved out; sometimes I get a little afraid that Draco is nervous about seeing his father get sent to jail again. He tells me some things about it, but mainly they're just guilt-related sentiments that I can quickly dispel by reminding him of the first time Lucius was locked up, and how Draco _had_ to take on the impossible task he was given by the Dark Lord. He cheers up a bit after that. Sometimes he even adds to the conversations—it's always interesting to play the 'let's-predict-the-next-stupid-Lucius-move' game._

_The cottage is a small one-room arrangement, so Draco and I have to share a bed. Neither of us mind, of course. He admitted he feels a little safer sleeping right beside me. It's a really special thing, to be a mother and have a son that is in his late teens, and still have him wanting to curl up beside you like he was a little boy again. It makes me feel like less of a bad person. We've been living here for several days now, and it really couldn't be going any better. Sometimes if we're feeling brave, we leave the cottage and go for a walk through the little community. There's a swimming pool here, a nature trail, a recreational center, and lots of friendly people. So far we just like to walk. The neighbors really like Mildred and Roger Vane—they invite us over for tea upon several occasions. Draco is incredibly nervous the whole time, so I had to spontaneously add a detail to his character's 'story' to make it seem less suspicious._

_I tell people now (only the ones we're a little close to) that Draco, or Roger, for that matter, is partially deaf. He only has a quarter of his hearing left, so that's why he can't answer any of their questions and why he appears to be so nervous—he doesn't know what's happening around him. It's because he got deathly ill as a baby, and me being a single mother couldn't afford to get him proper treatment at St. Mungo's. He had Dragon Pox. It ravished his poor infant body and left him with little hearing, but he survived. He is my miracle baby. He lived._

_And they actually buy it!_

_Of course, whenever they ask about my husband, I always tell them that he cheated on me and left after I told him that I was pregnant with his child. The idea of having a baby was too permanent for him—he was a very noncommittal man. So he left me all alone for his newer, younger mistress, and I had to fend for myself and my unborn child alone. What a horrible story! But parts of it could count as true. Lucius did leave me alone. Maybe not in a cheating way, or something as devastating as leaving his pregnant wife for a younger little thing, but he left me in ways that are even deeper. He left me for a man. An entity. The Dark Lord. Lucius no longer strived to be the family pureblood man that he longed to be for so long—after the rise of the Dark Lord again once the Potter boy came around to the wizarding world, Lucius desperately wanted power. He wanted acceptance. He wanted the same thing I warned him about that had caused my sister to be thrown into Azkaban herself; she got so wrapped up in trying to please the Dark Lord that she became reckless. She got caught. And I knew the way that Lucius was going (fighting to maintain a good image while doing horrible things, the screw-up with the Weasley girl's diary, the lobbying in the Ministry) his ticks were almost up. It was only a matter of time before he faced the same fate. But he didn't care. He just kept going, thinking it was really getting him somewhere. He forgot he had a wife and son to love more._

_I'm sitting across from Draco in one of the small chairs by the cottage fireplace. He's reading the paper from this morning, I've got the evening edition. Ah, good. They've got Molly in for questioning. This plan is going just as I expected it to! I'm sure you're wondering what a pureblood Malfoy had to do with one of the Weasleys—in fact, there's a good reason._

_I made a friendship with Molly when I was at Hogwarts—just a casual, friendly relationship where if I ever looked lost in my first year, she'd point me in the right direction. Or if I got stood up by my date at a ball, she'd call me over to laugh with her and her friends. We kept in touch over the years—I told her of my struggle to conceive Draco, I told her of the miracle when he was born, I told her that we had to stop communicating because Lucius had ordered it. Of course he had. It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't entirely the truth either. I sent her my patronus (a beautiful swan, which I'm quite proud of) holding a distressed message that told her my husband was forbidding any more communication, and that I was so sorry that our years of friendship had to end the way it did. Was I planning this grand fake death all those years ago? Of course not. But I knew Lucius was getting a little too big for his britches. I knew I would someday want a divorce. And anything that would make him look as controlling and manipulative as he was would be great findings. He told me that we didn't want to be associated with such a disgraceful family—so I relayed the message to her. I got a reply from her patronus that was tearful, that told me to be strong, and that reassured me that if I ever needed her for anything all I had to do was call. Molly Weasley is a very good person. I'm sure she would've acted the same way towards anyone that told her of what was happening at home. She's just that nurturing kind of person._

_Now, it's just opportune for our past friendship to be made public._

_Because she's in questioning—she's going to tell the Aurors a whole slew of things that Lucius wouldn't know, or wouldn't be able to accurately match. She's going to expose his tyranny. He'll have nothing to defend himself with. He'll only have the notion that she and I haven't spoken in several years, which is correct, but all she has to do is bring up the patronus story and everyone will lose their minds at the sadness of it all. They'll turn against him. Every time he opens his mouth he'll just be digging his grave deeper. I never lied to Molly. No. I never even stretched the truth. All I did was unload the truth to her at specific and well-timed intervals in case I ever needed a divorce. She would always back me up. I knew it. I did the same with Severus for the same reason—told the exact same stories, had the same reactions to Lucius, everything. But unfortunately he passed away in the war._

_I never go without a backup plan._

_Molly is just that. I feel a little guilt for throwing her into this, but from what the newspapers are saying, she's apparently just absolutely desperate to find me alive—she's crying, hysterical, making handmade posters to find me and my Draco. It's all real, that's for sure. She doesn't want to be laden with guilt or regret either. And I'm sure she's afraid of Lucius and what he's become. It all works for me. _The Daily Prophet_ said they're going to post her entire interview tomorrow morning. I can't wait to see what she said._

_I can't wait to see the headline that reads "Ex-Death Eater Convicted of Domestic Murder"._


	12. Nine Days Gone

**Things break in this chapter. Be prepared. o-0**

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><p>Dora sat across from a disheveled Lucius in the Auror Office, taking in the sight of him. He hadn't been sleeping, that was for sure. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was a mess. Were those the same clothes as yesterday? Along with his similar appearance, he gave the same, unvarying plea. "I had nothing to do with this," he snarled, putting his forehead into his hand. Brade exchanged a look with her. "Lucius, you've got to get a lawyer." she encouraged for the hundredth time. "Not doing so doesn't make you look any less guilty. It's for you, not for the public."<p>

"I'm not hiring one of those Potter-loving Aurors to 'defend' me over something I had no part in!"

"Listen, you are being offered a lawyer. It's for your own good. What you plan to do is up to you, but you have to know you are being recommended to acquire one—"

"I said I'm done with it!" Lucius roared.

She stopped talking. Brade didn't move. Lucius stared hard at the table for a long time, waiting for one of them to say something next. Minutes went by. Finally, Dora shuffled some papers and let out a sigh. "We have some questions for you, Lucius." she reported. But the frustrated blonde man also was exasperated. "When do the questions stop and the investigations begin? You're not doing your job—to find my wife and son. You're sitting here and asking people questions, trying to find who did it, getting nowhere because you keep asking _me_."

"This _is_ the investigation. It's been over a week and no one on our Auror field team has been able to find where your family was taken. That's nobody's fault but whoever it was that killed—"

"_Kidnapped them!_"

"Until I have a body, Lucius, there's no proof that they're even still _alive!_"

Another dreadful silence fell. No one looked at each other. "You know," Dora said softly, taking a much calmer tone now. "You're not the only one in questioning. We read through Narcissa's diary at least a hundred times now, and each read gave us more and more insight into her personal life."

"And what sort of group besides _me_ did you pull out of that?" he sneered in reply, still angry that he was even a suspect.

"…Molly Weasley. Her schoolgirl friend. Her estranged sister, Andromeda. Har—er, j-just others that might give us some—"

"Others like?" he knew who's name she'd cut off.

"…Like other people who were close to her in the time—"

"Potter."

"…Mr. Potter has been called in for testimony, yes."

"The one who wanted me thrown in Azkaban the first time, and wanted _her_ to go free?!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" It was Brade who shouted this time, silencing everyone. "Must I remind you that we are here for more testimony, and that if you fail to comply with us, you are withholding information to an investigation. That also gets legal punishment." Dora seemed a little proud of her assistant for stepping in. She laid her papers down on the table.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I need you to answer some questions for me so we can compare them to the others' answers, just as we've done with all of them. We're looking for consistency. For formality, I must ask, are you willing to answer all of these without a lawyer?"

"Yes." Lucius ground out.

"Thank you. First question: who is Molly Weasley?"

"A blood traitor that had too many kids for her own good…." Lucius muttered. Dora glared. Not the right time to be expressing personal opinions.

"And were you aware that your wife, Narcissa Malfoy, had a friendly relationship with Molly Weasley?"

"Yes."

"How long did their interactions span?"

"I don't remember…when she got pregnant I think?"

"Which time?" So they knew about the miscarriages.

"With Draco. Weasley was having another one at the same time."

"Did you ever tell Narcissa that you weren't happy with her being close to someone you clearly aren't fond of?"

"No."

"Did you ever tell Narcissa that she must not carry on in her friendship with Molly Weasley?"

"No."

"Were you displeased when Narcissa lied to the Dark Lord about the death of Harry J. Potter?"

"No—I just wanted to find our son."

"Did you ever feel any apathy towards her for defying the power she was supposed to have pledged to?"

"No."

"And now we have some questions regarding Draco." She shuffled some papers a little bit more, keeping her eyes on Lucius, until she managed to pull out a piece of parchment of a different shade of yellow. This one had a lot of markings on it. "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, have you any idea where your missing son, Draco Lucius Malfoy, could be at the moment?"

"Probably with Narcissa." Again, another stupid comment. Brade tapped his wand on the table.

"In the past few months after the war, how would you describe your son's mental state?" Dora continued.

"He…I don't know…he just sort of shook all the time and didn't talk much…"

"Are you aware of any fears he may possess?"

"Not that I remember…"

"Did Draco have a special attachment to anyone or anything? An object, maybe a childhood teddy bear, or a friend?"

"No, probably not…"

"Mr. Malfoy, you seem very unsure of things."

"I just don't want to give the wrong information."

"He's your son—any information you have on him is helpful. Now, was he more closely attached to you, or to Narcissa?"

"Not really anyone…he just sort of drifted through the house…."

"I mean even before the war occurred. Was there anyone he favored?"

"…Probably Narcissa…"

"And did that upset you in any way? That he chose his mother to run to instead of the father he was supposed to model after?"

"Of course it did. I always wished he would've come to me with his worries and his fears, but he always went to _her_. _She_ was the one that knew how to take care of him. _She_ was the only one that could calm him down. It was always Narcissa, Narcissa, _Narcissa_ for Draco."

Dora and Brade glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes. "No further questions, Mr. Malfoy. Shall I have someone escort you out?" Dora asked politely, as if any disagreement or testy feelings hadn't occurred at all in that small room. Lucius pushed his chair back forcefully as he stood up. "I can find my own bloody way out of this, dammit." he growled, storming out of the office. Dora took a quill out of her briefcase, drawing a circle around the last question she asked slowly and deliberately. "Oh, I don't think you can."

Lucius hurried out to the main lobby, full of workers that were crowding off to their offices and their duties, new moving pictures of Narcissa and Draco hanging on the banners above them. The nice pictures. The one of Narcissa holding Draco after the battle, the one of Narcissa smiling gently as she just 'happened' to see a photographer while they were in Diagon Alley buying Draco's first year of supplies, the one of Draco turning his innocent gray eyes up to the sky after Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban the first time. "**HAVE YOU SEEN US?**" read the bold letters across the top of the photographs. _Too many times,_ Lucius thought to himself with a smirk. Suddenly he heard someone screaming in a high-pitched voice across the lobby. A woman. He looked to his left. Whoever it was was staring up at the pictures with a hand over her mouth, pointing directly at Lucius.

She had red hair.

Everyone stopped where they were going when they heard this murder-like shriek, some slowly making their way, but definitely taking a moment to stare. Molly Weasley let out a choked sob. "_What have you done to her?!_" she shrieked, still pointing at Lucius. "_Where is she?!_" All the eyes moved over to him. "You were unhappy with her, weren't you?!" Molly tearfully screamed. "You were mad she had a heart, that she defied the Dark Lord and your own wishes! You thought you'd teach her a _lesson!_" Some people were hurrying out of the corridors towards her. "I know your secrets! She told me what you did to her! She told me you physically shoved her often, that you beat your _poor little boy!_" Arthur Weasley knelt beside his hysterical wife, trying to get her to calm down. A Weasley woman never backed off if she was upset about something. "You shut her away from the outside world so she wouldn't tell! Well _I_ know! She's been sending me letters for years behind your back, telling me not to respond so you wouldn't find out and kill her! She told me _everything!_ She told me everything and now you're going to pay for it! How can you take that beautiful face up there, and bash it into the door?! How can you hold that sweet, innocent young boy and _defile_ him in the way that you did?! And then once everyone has their eye on you, you can sneak around with another woman behind her back?! You're disgusting, Lucius Malfoy! _You're disgusting!_"

From nearly everywhere, reporters and even some Ministry workers chased after Arthur Weasley as he carried Molly away towards his office. Everyone wanted to hear about this news. Someone who knew—someone who had secrets about Lucius that Narcissa told her not to speak of. And she was right there. Easy to get more out of her in such an emotional state. Narcissa had gone behind his back. She'd once again disobeyed him.

"_ROT IN HELL, LUCIUS MALFOY! ROT IN HELL!_" Molly Weasley screamed from the distance. Although to Lucius, it felt like she was shouting it right into his ear.


	13. Ten Days Gone

**Short one, but full of suspense!**

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><p><em>She's done it! Molly Weasley pulls through yet again!<em>

_Her performance at the Ministry of Magic has reporters going wild! I truly have chosen a friend that is crazy, loyal, and breathtakingly emotional. She's a bloody Gryffindor—of course she'd go affronted at the drop of a hat! Quite the incredible little firecracker she is. I knew the minute she saw Lucius in person she'd lose her mind on him. Absolutely perfect._

_Although I've reached a little bit of a snag that is not so perfect in my plan. Draco is sick. Not just mentally and emotionally, but physically. He's got a fever, a terrible cough, and he's extremely run-down. Why is this a problem? Because we can't exactly go to St. Mungo's to have him looked at—that involves personal work; blood samples, medical scans, DNA. Most importantly, DNA. I'm trying every potion I know to try to bring down that fever, but sadly it's been getting worse over the past few days. Draco's cheeks are flushing and turning a bright shade of pink every time his temperature spikes. I don't know what to do about it—we can't go to any of the neighbors; it's too risky. No one can be that close to either of us. Looking at "Roger Vane" from a different angle might immediately cause them to think that he looks astoundingly like Draco Malfoy, and then there goes our whole plan. So I make him lie in bed all day, cooking up soup and potions and playing the mummy I used to be for my little boy except without the ordering husband standing over me, demanding to know why the baby wasn't getting better, commanding that I take him to St. Mungo's because I clearly wasn't doing my job right. Sweet little Draco huddles under the blankets, faintly murmuring to himself when the fever spikes and makes him delirious. I've always wanted to be a Healer. Maybe now I'll get my chance._

_But as I wait for the strongest of all the curing potions I've brewed to finally enter the last few steps, I think back to what's still left to do in the Missing Malfoy case. I make a checklist in my head._

_Keep a fake diary: check._

_Hide the diary: check._

_Make a mess of the bedroom, show signs that there was a struggle and that a vulnerable being was raped: check._

_Use Draco's blood: check._

_Change hair color and clothing: check._

_Take the withdrawn money and buy new wands: check._

_Move to a secluded development: check._

_Wait for the diary to be found: check._

_Wait for Mother and Father to testify: check._

_Wait for Molly Weasley to testify: double-check._

_Allow Lucius to continuously stumble over himself when he can't answer the personal questions about us: check._

_But, oh yes! There is one more little surprise I left for Lucius. I know that the Aurors are going to want to inspect anyone and everyone I mentioned in my diary—those that are still alive, of course. Since they've made it to the Molly Weasley part, there's one more to follow that's going to lead to a shocking discovery on their part. I hate to say I'm banking on this, because if it doesn't happen the way I expect it's certainly not going to ruin things, but I definitely can't wait to see it happen._

_Harry Potter will give his information on us._

_And he knows the three Malfoys best of all. Draco? He knows Draco as a very confident boy that lost everything about his demeanor during the war and became a scared, sad young boy. Me? He knows me as the woman who saved him—the woman that was more Gryffindor in that moment of decision than Slytherin. Lucius?...Ah, this is where the fun comes in. He knows Lucius to be sneaky, manipulating, self-interested. He's seen Lucius use Dark Magic on innocent people; he understands how terrifying my husband can be. If he complies, he'll spill every single spell and dark deed Lucius performed to the authorities, further incriminating the man that swears his innocence. I've said it before and I'll say it again: he may not have physically killed us, but he murdered our spirits, our inner pursuit of good, and that's basically the equivalent in this world._

_So what's the surprise for Lucius? Well, he won't know that Potter is going to say all that. He won't know that the Aurors will check his wand that I've hidden (since he'd been on strict no-magic probation since the war ended up until the trial) in the dresser upstairs, where he promised the officials it would stay until his release date. I left him a little spell on his wand there. One to really seal the deal, pardon the pun. Just before Draco and I left, I grabbed one of Bellatrix's old dolls that I'd kept when I found her attempting to pull the head off violently when we were kids. Lucius had told me it was silly to keep such a thing for so many years; he even threw it against the wall and cracked its porcelain cheek during one of our pointless arguments. Anyway, I cast a Full-Body Bind curse upon it using his wand, which showed no effect, as it was glass. And then I replaced the wand like nothing ever happened. The doll? What happened to it? Oh, how silly of me to forget to mention. That's part two of his little surprise._

_I put the doll down in the cellar, hair ripped out in clumps, cracked face, dress torn and twisted, a noose tied around its neck, and I hung her from one of the beams. She's a beautiful blonde doll—one that Mother and Father got for each of us girls one Christmas. We had one that was identical to us specifically._

_So as I sit here pouring a mug of potion for my little boy, I smile as I think about what it's going to look like when someone decides to be brave and go into that haunting cellar._

_A pretty little blonde girl._

_Once perfect and now tainted with imperfections._

_Hanging by her neck._

_Because of Lucius Malfoy._


	14. Fifteen Days Gone

**Here we go again! Let me know what you think!**

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><p>He had to do it. Lucius Malfoy had to break down and get a lawyer. Molly Weasley's performance in the Ministry of Magic turned what seemed like the entire wizarding world against him, and it was getting harder and harder to prove himself innocent. The man he hired was the father of a friend of Draco's—Rosco Zabini. He was a cunning Slytherin, and one that could say he had insight into the family problems through his son's friendship with one of the missing. The only thing that made Lucius hesitate to hire this man who kept a nearly perfect record of winning cases was that he always defended the guilty—the ones you look at and just know they did it, but they walk off free of charge due to his twisting of evidence and input of 'reasonable doubt'. He had had his first meeting with the man that day. Zabini swore that he was the best defense lawyer out there (as statistics proved—every former Death Eater wanted him to defend their cases) and affirmed that he would talk to his son and see if he could pick his brain for any of Draco's feelings and emotions that Lucius could use the next time he had an interview. "We need to work on your public image." Zabini had told him. "Right now, the wizarding world thinks you're guilty and nobody can change their minds but you."<p>

"My public image? This is murder! It isn't some political debate!" Lucius had shouted. Zabini only smirked.

"My friend, that's exactly what this is."

So it was decided—Lucius was going to have to go public in an interview with _The Daily Prophet_. But Zabini promised to sit down with him for extensive hours and help him with the correct 'illusive' answers to give. They were set for that tomorrow. Lucius was finally granted permission to go back to the Manor to stay, because the Aurors claimed they found whatever they needed. Except along with that, they had torn up some of the carpeting and flooring, taken out Draco's bed, cut away parts of the door with evidence on it, marked off that whole wing entirely. _It's so nice they're letting me live in my own house,_ he thought with a sneer, _without actually letting me live_. Lucius went up to the third-floor bathroom, drawing a steaming tub of water to finally just relax into and pretend to forget all of this was happening. None of this Auror nonsense, no Zabinis involved, no Dora, no Weasley, no Azkaban….well, it had almost been this way too. Everything was going perfect. He even got rid of the Azkaban sentence. But then Narcissa went missing and the world's perception of him went from good to—

Wait.

The world's perception of him went from…good to…bad…which is what she'd screamed at him just a few weeks before the trial…that if he got off, everyone would immediately just think he was a good guy—they wouldn't see all the terrible deeds he did, how slick of a man he actually was….

Oh God.

Was it possible? Was it even right to think? That his missing wife, the woman who everyone turned to love and wanted to find…set him up? Just to make his image tainted? Lucius recalled their most recent fight, which wasn't all that recent, but near enough to the trial where he should've seen the signs. They were fighting about Draco; the boy had gotten sick all over the table at dinner after the conversation drifted to an Azkaban sentence, and Lucius—who was tired of seeing his son so weak—raised his voice at him. Narcissa put Draco to bed and came back seething, telling him never to yell at their extremely vulnerable son ever again, which resulted in Lucius arguing back that Draco still hadn't learned how to be strong, and the fight went back and forth until finally Narcissa fled upstairs to be alone. He'd followed her. He found her tidying up their bedroom (which was a habit of hers—if she was upset, she organized). But unfortunately, he exploded on her, and swung his arms at the contents atop the dresser that she'd just straightened. They were mainly pictures, but her precious little Narcissa doll was there too. She lunged for it just in time. But Lucius grabbed the doll by the hair and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall. Narcissa immediately ran to it, picking it up tenderly with tears in her eyes. "This doll…" she whispered. He knew it was going to have something to do with how special it was or whatever. Hell, if she kept it this long it had to be something important. "Was me. …Mother and Father got each of us girls our own for Christmas one year—they all matched us. I-I…I loved this doll. I kept her safe from Bella, I made sure she had friends, I even took her to Hogwarts with me. For all seven years. No one knew I had her in my trunk. You just…you hurt _me_." Lucius had scoffed, mocking her being a fragile porcelain doll—

He sat up abruptly in the bathroom.

That doll was her. If he 'hurt' it, he was hurting her. It was that special to her. If it was true, if Narcissa really was making this whole thing up, she would have used the doll as a prop.

Where in the hell was that doll.

He needed to find it.

Lucius sprang out of the bathroom, throwing his clothes onto his soaked body without even thinking—if he found the doll before they did, he could be safe. If they found it already… Lucius flew to their bedroom, opening every drawer, dresser, closet—wait, wasn't his wand supposed to be there? No matter. It didn't have any spells on it anyway. Let them search it and find nothing. But the doll wasn't there. He went room by room—the library, the kitchen, the dining room, the foyer, the hallways, the spare rooms. Anywhere he remembered her liking. And then it hit him. She wouldn't hide it in a place she liked. That would be obvious; it would mean she had been there. It needed to be somewhere she hated.

The basement.

Lucius walked slower down the steps—he knew that this was the one place he hadn't checked, and the one place Narcissa would never go. In the dim light, he could make out a cloth hanging from one of the beams above. Maybe something Potter or the Weasley left behind during their stay. Lucius crept forward. No, that wasn't a cloth—it was hanging by a string.

A rope.

The same kind of rope that had been tied to Draco's bed.

There she was in all her beauty—the Narcissa doll hung from the rope in the dim light, her broken porcelain cheek like a black hole, her hair ragged and torn, her dress abominable. And she had a noose around her neck. How fitting. Yes. Narcissa was framing him. She knew just how to do it—she knew every weak spot of his. She turned everything against him. Lucius closed his eyes as he stood in front of the doll, realizing that she was trying to teach him a lesson—that he would never win with her; she knew how bad he was, she knew every fault, she knew every slip-up he'd ever committed….and she was bringing them all into light for the public. He had to call Zabini immediately—this evidence might be turnable. The Slytherin lawyer could certainly whip everything around to show that it was true Narcissa had taken Draco and faked their deaths just to prove that Lucius was a bad man, right? He started up the stairs again, eager to get to the fireplace to make his call.

"Zabini," he gasped hurriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, ringing late. Can I help you?" the man's smooth voice responded as his head appeared in the flames.

"It's not real—none of its real."

"…I beg your—"

"It's all Narcissa. She's doing this herself. She's framing me. I…I found the evidence she left for me, not for the Aurors, but for me to understand that she really wasn't kidnapped—that she ran away herself."

"…And you're sure…?"

"I'm positive. The Narcissa doll—she put it in the basement with a rope around its neck because I broke it a few weeks ago and she said that if I destroyed that doll, I was destroying her too. She's making it look like I planned to hurt her, when really, it's the opposite. And she's showing me. She's showing me her plan!"

"…That…bitch."


	15. Seventeen Days Gone

**Almost near the end! Don't worry - there are still more surprises and twists never-before-mentioned planned though! The excitement doesn't stop!**

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><p>Draco's not getting better, and I'm growing more and more worried. His fever spikes and then drops severely. My potion is doing little for him—all it really cleared up was his runny nose. He still coughs and wheezes, his nights are terrible. Those eyes…sometimes they look at me like they're begging for me to help them….I can't do anything else. I just can't. If I bring him to St. Mungo's, the Healers will know it's us. We could be arrested. I would be arrested. I'm certain that that would push my baby over the edge, make him really lose his mind, possible lead him to kill himself. I could never let my baby do that. Ever. But how can I treat him without revealing our identity? I'm still working on that.<p>

Lucius has given an interview with the evening edition of _The Daily Prophet_. This ought to be rich. It's all written in bold letters across the top: **THE DEVIL TELLS ALL! LUCIUS MALFOY GIVES A BOMBSHELL INTERVIEW!** It's the very first time he's talked to reporters. I wonder if he'll further incriminate himself with his stupidity.

_All of us reporters here at _The Daily Prophet _have been eager to hear what exactly is running through the mine of the accused and notorious Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy's wife and son (Narcissa, 42, Draco, 18) were reported missing weeks ago with a crime scene left in Malfoy Manor for Aurors to dissect. So far, all evidence has pointed to one person; a person that has shown little remorse or any type of emotion so far. Lucius Malfoy. Finally, Arnold Creevey has gotten the chance to sit down with this man and hear firsthand what he's thinking._

_"I miss my wife and my little son." Lucius opens with. "I think about them constantly, every second of my life. My day. Every moment holds a memory of who they were—the people that I still love absolutely unconditionally. Stolen from me. Gone. I can't even bear to think what could have happened to them, or where they are now, or the condition that they're in. I miss them like nothing I've ever been missing before. They turned me around—they truly made me a better man. And now that they're gone…oh, now that…I can't think it. I won't. I need to remain positive to hopefully have them brought back. That's all I can do, and I would do anything."_

_So what would Lucius say individually to his wife and son? We've been wondering too._

_"Draco…if you're still there somewhere, please know that I love you so much. I may not have said it often, I may have been a lacking father at points in your life, I may have turned my back when you needed me most…but oh, Draco how I've changed. I can't stand wondering where you are and if you're alright. The things that happened to you here before you went missing…I want you to not be ashamed. It may hurt, baby, and you may feel worthless, but I need you to know that Daddy's doing everything he can to bring you back safe here. I'll get you away from that man. I'll make sure he never hurts you again. Oh, I love you so much. I love you so much. Be strong for me and I'll be strong for you._

_"Narcissa, my beautiful wife….words cannot express how devastated I am without you. I've said it a thousand times in my head already, but I need to say it aloud. I love you more than I love myself. I've made mistakes—I was a foolish, careless, greedy husband that abandoned his family values to chase a hollow power. I left you behind. You are my entire world—my safety, my calm, my love, my life. I'm falling apart without you. When I first found you, you were a doll. And I first I didn't know what that meant. But now I see. Now I see that you would be willing to crack and taint yourself to make a difference in your family life—to prove a point. I don't know where I would be without you today. I love you Narcissa. Please, if you're out there, come home. Come back to me. I've changed. I'll make it better. I'll…I'll fix things. I will do anything for you."_

And there it is—a surprisingly sincere account from Lucius Malfoy. It puts a different spin on this entirely. He was visibly upset at the fact that he was admitting all this, but not in a criminal way. He was upset that he hadn't shown these genuine feelings before. Now he's concerned everything will think he's faking, that it's a façade, that it isn't real. But, wizards and witches of the world, we can plainly see this is a desperate man who just wants him family returned to him. Stay tuned for more interviews with some of Draco's classmates in tomorrow night's edition.

He means it. He really does. He even slipped the doll into his speech to let me know he found it and he knows I've faked all of this—and yet he still promised to change. He didn't run and tell the police his theory, he made a genuine, sincere, wholehearted apology for his barbaric behavior. To the public. To the wizarding world. It wasn't about his image—Lucius is a very no-emotion-image sort of man. The fact that he poured his heart out here really says something. I lower the newspaper, looking over at Draco, muttering in his feverish sleep, and I let my eyes fall closed. I can't keep hiding. Draco needs medical attention. I need to be the good mother I've always strived to be. Lucius needs us to return home so he can practice this new living.

I've made my decision. We need to go home.


	16. Nineteen Days Gone

**Can't believe this is almost over! But wait! There's more...**

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><p>Lucius smirked as he read the morning paper. They loved it—they loved him. They adored his reaching out to Narcissa with the hope that she was alive. The public was beginning to change their minds about him, albeit ever so slightly. As long as this steady increase in positive public opinion continued, it was only a matter of time before he and his lawyer could release that it was Narcissa that faked the whole kidnapping, and that he was being framed. Oh, what a wonderful day that would be.<p>

A well-groomed dark owl fluttered gracefully over to the table, where it landed in silence. Lucius removed the envelope from its foot. The parchment inside was no doubt expensive. Thick and creamy, there wasn't a question in his mind as to who this came from.

_Spectacular show, mate. Working on some bombshell statements now. I'll let you thank me for saving your arse when I come by later to discuss them._

_~R. Zabini_

Lucius smirked. As much as he hated having to give the credit to someone else, he knew he never would've agreed to an interview all on his own like that—not to mention have such insight into what he should and should not specifically say in order to turn the public's mind. He was a Slytherin, but Zabini was a Slytherin in law. Therefore, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Lucius took a sip of his tea. Before that interview, he'd taken a significant amount of time to focus on himself—doing the things that would make him feel more confident and more like the man he was before the war. Narcissa was clearly pulling this to make a point to him; that she didn't like how he'd changed. So if he reverted, or at least pretended to, she'd make a breakthrough. She might even dare to show her face. Or maybe she'd create a new goosetrail leading to some shocking fake crime scene again but where someone else was framed and he looked like the hero. He knew his wife. She thought he didn't, but he did. Inside and out.

So the first thing he did in preparation for the press conference was get rid of the Narcissa doll.

Ever since he found it hanging in the basement, it caused him inexplicable yet undeniable rage. She was teasing him. Letting him know that she had planned everything precisely and he was done for. So he used a fire-starting charm on it and threw it out into the woods. He decided that if he ever did see her face again, he probably would kill her for everything she'd put him through. Not having the doll around made it much easier to pretend he loved her. Simply because he didn't have to look at any part of her.

Lucius tossed the paper aside carelessly, feeling much lighter and happier than he had in weeks. He felt free from Narcissa and her expectations, her false game-playing—because now he was getting back at her. He was going to show her and the world that she wasn't this poor, frightened little girl that was murdered by her husband. He was going to show them she was a lying, thieving bitch that deserved to be hung upside down until all the blood rushed to her head and burst out her ears. A loud knock reverberated through the large house. Zabini arrived early, Lucius reckoned. The statements must've gone well. He got up and walked slowly over to the door, striding, as he used to do before the family's fall from grace. Oh, he had his grace. That was for sure. "Open up, Malfoy—it's the Auror Investigation Team." a loud, gruff voice shouted from the other side of the door. Lucius sighed in frustration. Them. What could they want? But before he could even get the door open, it burst forward, letting in sunlight, cool air, and about ten Auror officials. They surrounded him. "What on earth are you doing in my house?" Lucius snarled. Brade stepped forward through the ring, pinning Lucius's arms behind his back. Dora stepped forward too. "Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for the murder of Narcissa Malfoy and Draco Malfoy. You have the right to remain silent. Keep in mind anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law." she recited. His eyes widened. "Murder? I didn't murder them!" he shouted. "I had nothing to do with it! I told you that! You have no proof!"

"Mr. Malfoy we have all the evidence we need. It's incriminating and it all points to you."

"Let me speak with my lawyer! You can't arrest me until I see him!"

"Lawyers will do nothing for you now, Mr. Malfoy. You're beyond any help. We have proof from all directions."

"What 'proof' do you have against me?!"

Dora knelt down in front of him, as Brade had worked him down onto his knees. "Loads," she said softly. "Narcissa's diary—it points out clear abuse of the physical and emotional nature you inflicted upon her for years; your wand—you thought we wouldn't find it, that we wouldn't check its spells. You used a Full-Body Bind curse. Wouldn't that be extremely useful if you wanted to tie someone up? Bind them to a bed? Force them to commit to your will? Both Narcissa and Draco's wands were last used for a protection spell and a failed stunning spell. Why would they need to use those? And we can't forget about all the testimonies—Molly Weasley, Andromeda Black-Tonks, Harry Potter. All three had similar responses. Consistent responses. Responses that showed what you really were. And then…we stumbled upon another careless Lucius mistake. A doll. In the woods. Smoldering. Your fingerprints were all over her, Malfoy. The thing was broken and smashed and burned—seemed pretty violent and raging. It's coincidental it looked exactly like your wife."

"…That was a mistake! She left that for me to find here!"

"Lucius, we'd already found the doll and found your fingerprints on it and on the rope it was swinging from in the basement. Do you really think we wouldn't check down there? We left it to see your reaction—we knew you'd find it sooner or later. And what do you know. As soon as it's discovered, it's immediately found in the woods by our dogs, charred from being lit on fire and battered."

"I only did that because I was upset!"

"Hmm…what other stupid things have you done when emotions take over?"

The handcuffs clicked onto his wrists. "Take him outside," Dora commanded the Aurors. As a group they all moved, escorting Lucius out of his own house and towards the property boundary, where they would all Apparate to the Ministry for a trial set-up. "You can't do this!" Lucius shouted. "It's all circumstantial!" Dora whipped around, halting the marching party of Aurors. "There is nothing circumstantial about this case, Lucius. While you've been thinking we weren't giving it enough attention, while you were out playing innocent boy for the media, we were checking and rechecking our claims. You can't counter. The evidence is all there, and there's nothing you can do about—"

"Lucius?"

Everyone looked in all directions, wondering where the source of the small, faint voice came from. It came from the woods. A thin figure was seen staggering out from it, slipping down and landing weakly in the grass. The Aurors ran towards it. Towards her. Narcissa. "It's her!" a man shouted. Dora strode over quickly, eager to be sure it wasn't so she could still hold Lucius accountable. But it certainly was Narcissa, her blonde hair a tangled mess, her dress ripped and torn and filthy. The Aurors helped her stand and supported her. "Where's the boy? Is he with you? Where did you come from? What happened?" a thousand questions were fired off at once. Narcissa looked bewildered. She let out a cry of anguish that silenced them all. "Draco…he's so, so weak. Weaker than I am. He must've fallen in the woods. Please…please find him for me. I can't believe I didn't look behind me. I just heard my husband's voice and I had to—oh, I'm a terrible mother!" she sobbed. Dora actually began to take pity on her. She reached out and put her hands on Narcissa's shoulders as three young Aurors ran into the woods to find the boy. "You're not a bad mother," Dora assured gently. "You were only trying to save yourselves." Lucius stepped forward, hands still bound. Oh, he could kill her right now. To show up like that, all distressed and ragged. What a liar. What a snake. She raised her big blue eyes. "Lucius…" she breathed. Dora went around and unlocked the handcuffs. It was like she was testing Lucius—would he snap and end up being the bad guy, or would he behave when let off the leash? Lucius hesitantly stepped forward, thinking quickly, breathing slowly. He had to make this look convincing. Again. "Narcissa…my beautiful wife…." he sighed, catching her up into a strong hug and holding her head close to his lips. "You bitch," he whispered. But she smiled. To the rest of the Aurors, it looked hopeful, relieved, assured. But to Lucius it held cockiness. Nothing but pure pride. "I love you too," she whispered as if he'd said it first.

The Aurors stepped out of the woods, a tiny figure cradled in their arms. "We found him!" they shouted. Draco's blonde head rested against the biggest Auror's chest. His eyes were shut. He was bloody. Now that he looked down at his wife, Lucius saw Narcissa was bloody too. How'd she fake this one? But he couldn't think like that. Not here. Instead, he opened his arms, wordlessly asking for them to let him hold his son. He clutched the emaciated boy close to him. Bruised, battered, bloody. Was this really fake? It was so convincing. Eerily convincing. "We need to get both of you to St. Mungo's." Dora said, taking Narcissa's arm. She looked over at Brade. "Notify the press. Get in contact with the chief editor right away." She then turned to Lucius. "Are you coming to the hospital too?" she asked. He nodded. A forced eager nod. "I need to be with them. I just want to make sure they're safe." he faked. Zabini would be proud.

Within the next few hours, it was determined that Narcissa had been beaten brutally and starved, and Draco had wounds that were consistent with rape. That hurt Lucius the most. However Narcissa managed to make that happen….she would pay if it hurt Draco. The boy was also stricken with a nearly deathly infection that he'd contracted a while ago and spread quickly. It had gotten to the point of life-threatening. Once they were resting in their hospital beds, Dora and the Aurors wanted to ask them some questions. "P-Please…" Narcissa whispered. "Don't…ask Draco yet. He's so broken….he needs to heal." Dora nodded sympathetically. "We understand. We want you two to feel safe. That's the most important thing. Now can you tell me what happened that day? The day you went missing?" she asked, getting a quill out to go with her parchment.

"I was taking care of Draco that morning—he was having a panic attack before Lucius left for the trial—and I heard the front doors bang open loudly. So I thought Lucius had forgotten something and was rushing back in to get it. I yelled where we were. Oh…oh…I must've encouraged it…I gave us away…." she cried, tears spilling over. Some of the Aurors sighed in pity.

"No, dear. No. Don't feel like you brought it on yourself. Nothing could've stopped what happened. It wasn't your fault."

"…Thank you. You're all very kind. Now…where was I…oh, the front doors banged open, and a little bit after, he showed up in the doorway. I tried to use a protection charm, but he disarmed me before it could hit."

"Could you tell us what the man looked like? If you didn't manage to get his name?"

"I got his name. I knew him from before. That's how he knew how to get into the house—where to find us."

"Can you tell us who it was? You're being so brave, Narcissa. This is a very valiant thing of you to comply with."

"Thank you. It was…a former Death Eater….someone that used to come here when the Dark Lord was in power. It…it was Yaxley."


	17. Three hours Home

**Sorry for that delay! Just a few chapters left!**

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><p>Of course I lied.<p>

I made the whole thing up.

You don't really expect me to just walk in and admit that I staged everything just so that Lucius could be free of charges. Of course not. He needed to be taught a lesson, and oh did he learn. As soon as we're found, the Aurors take Draco and I away to St. Mungo's to be treated for our wounds and illness. Reporters from _The Daily Prophet_ are already stationed outside waiting for photographs the moment we arrive. The Aurors pull cloaks over our faces so that nothing gets leaked prematurely. I'm not really injured—I just have to pretend like I am. I did a pretty good job making it convincing. Except Draco honestly is sick. Which of course I didn't plan for.

But I'm sure you're wondering how I did it. How I once again managed to use my inner Slytherin to turn the blame on someone else and end up looking innocent. It wasn't easy, but it will be worth it when we finally go home and Lucius treats me the way he should—just like he promised to in the paper. But anyway, first of all, I had to get rid of every shred of evidence out there in our little cabin we were staying in. Not a single hair could be left anywhere that if anyone searched or just happened to pick it up, it could be linked back to us. We paid an extra month's rent, then I told the neighbors that I'd received an owl from my uncle Atticus telling me that he was going to allow for us to stay with him. We said tearful farewells (all fake, of course) and Draco and I left the very next day. Although as much as it pained me to do this to him, I had us sleep out in the woods for several nights so that we'd appear dirty (and also so our disappearance from the cabin wouldn't look planned). Draco was delirious. His fever was completely making his whole head swoon. I knew I had to come up with a consistent story, so I transfigured a stick into a wine bottle. I gave him the last of the medicine that I'd previously made; while he was a little more alive, I instructed him what to do with it to make our case. I'm so ashamed. How on earth could I ask Draco to do this to himself? I must really want Lucius to be the man I married again. If Draco wasn't so sick and out of his mind already, I probably wouldn't have told him to do this.

No mother should have to listen to her son cry as he abuses himself with a wine bottle.

It's almost as bad as the "rape" he went through. I'm so ashamed. But it had to be done—he needed consistent wounds to go along with the story. I'd have him do that to himself for a while, rest for an hour, do it again, so on and so forth. When the crying in pain got less, I knew he was properly prepared. While he was doing that, I beat myself with branches and scratched myself with twigs. We needed wounds. We needed a story. Within that week, we then Apparated to where Yaxley lived (I only knew because I sat in on the Death Eater meetings, and listened to everyone's conversations before the Dark Lord entered). I made sure I put on an innocent face—I told Yaxley that Lucius beat us, and that the scene in the manor was caused by him; we just fled the minute he was gone. Yaxley—despite him being a greasy, unhygienic man—had a little bit of sympathy in him. Or maybe it was because he too was a man in hiding. He didn't want to be one of those ones sent to Azkaban for being associated with the Dark Lord. We stayed in his house for tea, had to listen to some gruesome stories to make him sound tough, and finally, I took action. While Yaxley was standing up to get another tray of crusty old biscuits, I hit him with a Full-Body Bind curse from behind. Draco collapsed on the couch. His illness left him unconscious. Thankfully, he wasn't awake to see me drag Yaxley into the bedroom; he wasn't awake to feel me bring him in too, to lay him down on the bed; he wasn't awake to see me grab a kitchen knife and run it down Yaxley's back, sending blood everywhere.

Yes, maybe it was good Draco was so sick.

I made sure we were covered in blood. I took the tray of biscuits and threw it all on the floor. I rolled Draco around in the sheets to get his scent on it, his DNA. I tied and bound him to the bed, tightening the twine around his wrists so there were marks. And then, I grabbed my sleeping little boy and made away yet again, leaving a second crime scene that never actually occurred.

Sure enough, the Healers at St. Mungo's release an official document saying that my wounds are consistent with battery, and Draco's are consistent with rape. They raise the question as to why there wasn't any of Yaxley's DNA inside Draco, so I have to elaborate on my story. "He ordered me to go get tea set up," I tearfully whisper, making my voice hoarse on purpose. "And I heard him going into the bedroom _again_. I tried to block it out, I really did….but the sounds that Draco was making only caused my heart to ache once more. This happened to him every day, all the time. I couldn't stand it anymore. So I grabbed a knife, I walked to the bedroom, and when I saw that…that _monster_ on top of my baby again….I-I…I'm sorry, this is painful to recall…." The Aurors nod with pity, handing me a tissue and telling me to take my time. "…I-I just lost control of myself. He hadn't actually begun the assault on Draco yet—he was still…still forcing him into sex acts. But I knew it was coming. It always did. He m-made…me…_watch_ sometimes…." The Aurors all gasp and whisper amongst themselves. There. That got them. The most convincing thing.

They treat my "wounds" and ask if I want to see Draco. I step into his room timidly, gingerly, and immediately burst into tears. I have to scream and cry. I have to pretend like I saw him being violated several times against my control. "My baby!" I sob out, reaching for him and stumbling in. "I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Draco!" The Aurors again take pity. They surround me, telling me that nothing is my fault, that everything will be alright. They tell me I'm brave. Of course I am. I put up with what Lucius became all those years ago. But now I'll finally have him back.

They bring Lucius into my room a little bit later. We sit huddled together, close, just as we always used to when we were younger. Yes. Finally. This is how it's going to be now. Just like way back then. He'll be a better father, a better husband. We're going to be a happy family again. The reporters are just incredibly enthralled with this image—with our return. And I know for a fact that none of the Aurors will raise questions because right now they look like judgmental bastards that arrested the wrong man and assumed us dead without double-checking. They say I'll have to go in and tell my whole side of the story so that it can be released to the rest of the world. I don't need to plan for it, I already have everything in mind. All I need right now is my Lucius, the old Lucius. And as we sit on Draco's bed together, watching our poor little baby sleep, my husband leans over to whisper in my ear. "If you can fake a kidnapping," he breathes. "I can fake loving you."

I know exactly what he means.


	18. Four Weeks Home

**The final chapter! Thank you everyone who read this, I really appreciate your support. I hope you enjoyed it! :)**

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><p>Narcissa tapped her foot on the soft carpet of the library, flipping another page of the book she was reading. Back straight and hair perfectly done, she was the picture of a sophisticated woman; the portrait of the good wife. She caught Lucius looking at her from across the room. He often did this, just pondering her. She appeared to be perfect—she seemed like everything that a man could want. She didn't speak unless spoken to, she bore him an heir, she liked to bake sweets, she upheld her pureblood upbringing, she prevented the bed from getting lonely. She let him lead the relationship; something he found to be very important and necessary in his house. Giving her husband that small smile, Narcissa returned to reading her book. This was how it had always been before the incident. But all that was done now. Narcissa had cleaned everything spotless in the house. She took care of her child after his traumatic experiences. She let her him stay hidden away in his room.<p>

And just like that, everything was back to normal.

Not a lot of talking in the house, not too much noise. Lucius returned to reading his book as well, although he couldn't help occasionally glancing up to look at her. He didn't know why. She'd barely spoken of any of the incidents after the news had spread throughout the wizarding world. Perhaps she felt it was unnecessary now that it was all over. So what was she thinking? How was she feeling? Did she remember things about her lie, or did she just shut them out? He didn't know. He would never know. But for now, all he could say was that she was fine—she was only looking towards the future, not the past. Her poise, her gentle smile, her willingness to return to normality hinted him to come to that conclusion. So for now, everything was fine.

Even though he'd stopped sharing a bed with her, and rarely spoke unless it was to his son.

Because he knew that Draco really had nothing to do with it. The poor boy was traumatized ever since he was sixteen, and he never had the chance to mentally heal. So Narcissa had taken advantage of that. She coaxed him into following her. Now the boy stayed up in his room, sitting on his bed, rubbing his injured wrists all hunched over with the dull soreness that sometimes plagued him from the recent "sexual" abuse he was forced to fake. He looked out the window. Lucius stood in his doorway for long periods of time just gazing at his son's back—a dark shadow in the blinding light of the window. Poor Draco. He'd been through so much.

And he wouldn't even remember much of it.

His illness had become so strong and so dangerous, that he didn't remember anything that happened to him while he was stricken with a fever. In a way, Lucius rejoiced at this fact. Because if they ever called Draco in for questioning some time in the future, he could honestly say he didn't remember and not have to deal with any more guilt. If anything were to be found or leaked (although it seemed unlikely at this point of the investigation), Narcissa would have to answer. She'd be the one they would look into more. She could be punished. Although, a man could only wish. The Aurors were growing more and more quiet now that the public was taking on a new view of them—lazy, judgmental, impractical, wrong. They wouldn't question much more. And if anyone came forward and claimed they saw the Missing Malfoys out in public during that time, they would be shot down and scrutinized for speaking out against two tragically disturbed people. One night, Narcissa told him everything. She told him about the disguises, the cabin, the murder—and it didn't make him proud or want to love her at all. He was afraid of her. She was a murderer.

So all Lucius Malfoy did was put on a show for the people that often crowded outside his home, leaving flowers and stuffed animals and cards and all that for the family to wish them healing during such a difficult time. Draco watched from his window, barely visible from the gates to the Manor. On the outside, the Malfoys were warm, loving, helpful to each other. Inside, it was cold, lonely. Nothing changed. Not one thing changed.

Lucius heard the Manor doors opening from his seat in the library a few weeks later. Some muffled voices were audible, but soon faded. Narcissa stepped into the library to resume her reading. He didn't want to talk to her. She could've just let six hippogriffs into the house and he wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of asking. She didn't seem to mind though, because she was convinced this would all fade and they would be a loving husband and wife again. "It was a special visitor for Draco," she announced softly, sitting beside him. He didn't speak. "I thought perhaps inviting him would sort of take away some of the pain Draco feels." she went on. Nothing. "They were just boys back then. Maybe now they can work things out. Harry is a very patient person, especially now since he's an Auror, and—"

"You mean to tell me you just let another Auror into our house?" There. She got what she wanted. Lucius stared with hard eyes.

"Not so much an Auror; a friend. A friend to Draco."

"That's only going to hurt him more! The guilt, the pain—it'll all come back to him!"

"Darling, this whole thing has taken his mind off of it. It's not so much at the forefront of his thoughts anymore—"

"You did this! You added more guilt and shame to cover up the past pain he'd felt!"

"Sweetheart, he barely remembers anything that I did."

"He can read. I go check on him every hour of the day and one time, I found a newspaper he'd thrown aside that he'd obviously read. He read about himself! He saw that he was this weak boy who was raped and taken advantage of and that the world is pitying him for something _so embarrassing to a young man!_ And it never happened! It was all his conniving, scheming, _snake_ of a mother that set him up so that she could get something that she wanted!"

"…Lucius, the memories he does have are consistent with my story. Running through the woods, Yaxley's house, sleeping in dirt—it all works."

Lucius couldn't take it anymore. He jumped up and kicked the large coffee table over, sending it crashing to the floor. He leaned over Narcissa, forcing her back into the chair. "I'm going to have you tested with veritaserum." he snarled dangerously. "Because then…oh, then the truth will come out. All I have to do is suggest it, and they'll listen to me because those damn Aurors have their tails between their legs! Every single thing you faked will be revealed. And I'll get to keep Draco since he has nothing to do with _any_ of this while you'll be sent to Azkaban just like your whore of a sister!" Narcissa was clearly flared by these words, but she didn't show it. A silence passed. "…And how would you do that?" she asked smoothly. "If I removed the memories and discarded them with the wands we used?" It took a moment for this to sink in. Lucius was enraged. Beyond enraged—every cell in his body was seething. Oh, how he could kill her right now. He could so picture himself bashing her head in and throwing her into the fire where she belonged. But that wasn't possible. He turned on his heel and banged the library doors open, throwing himself through them and darting up the stairs. Narcissa smiled.

When Lucius drew nearer to Draco's room, he heard soft murmurs and sniffles coming from the doorway he so often stood in to observe his little boy. Draco still sat in front of the window, but this time he had Harry Potter beside him. The blonde boy was crying. Harry spoke softly to him, not meeting his eyes, but gently running his fingertips over Draco's aching wrists. Lucius strained to hear. "I-I…I-I'm ruined," the weak whisper sobbed.

"No, no you're not. Not anymore. People aren't going to look down upon you anymore—they'll want to protect you."

"I-I…I don't w-want that…."

"I know,"

"…I d-don't…even remember it…."

"It's ok. Maybe that's better. Maybe you won't get nightmares about it or you'll have a better time moving forward. Draco…people love you. This doesn't taint who you are—you're so strong because you survived it. For example, your parents; they love you more than you'll ever know."

"I-I don't…know…:

"What do you mean? Your mum protected you in every way she could. Your dad is here for you."

"I-Is he?"

"…Do you feel that he's not?"

"W-Well…I know he checks on me….I know he sees me….But I feel like I've made him ashamed of me. N-No Malfoy is supposed to be…weak. And e-especially not…not like…this…."

"Draco, you couldn't help it. It was beyond your control, just like everything in your life so far. It's alright. He loves you so much. He just may not know how to approach you yet because he doesn't want to hurt you."

Harry reached over and wrapped his arms around Draco's frail shoulders, causing the smaller blonde to flinch a bit. It took a few seconds for him to relax into the hug. He buried his face into Harry's Auror robes—Lucius could hear the sobs from outside the door. And yet Potter was still gentle, still kind, even after Draco just sobbed for nearly ten minutes. He didn't leave. He didn't get frustrated. He was so prepared to let the boy know he was there for him. Lucius's heart broke when he heard his son whisper an apology to Harry, and when the other boy told him he had nothing to feel guilty about.

Narcissa appeared beside Lucius, and slipped her hand into his. Harry looked behind them to see the parents there, breaking off his hug with Draco to nod to them. Narcissa smiled wordlessly again, and hugged her husband's arm. Harry went back to speaking to his blonde friend softly. Lucius let them have privacy. He and Narcissa stepped away.

As he walked down the stairs behind her, he couldn't help but ponder her beautiful head. He had the option to trip her right then and there and watch it crack open, but he knew he simply could not. What was going on in that head? What was she feeling? What was she thinking? The age-old question with Narcissa. It could never be answered. Only every so often would she allow a glimpse into her thought process—her neurological network. What she allowed to be visible (only to a select few) was not pretty. So they went back into the library, where Lucius sat on one chair, and she sat beside him, and they opened their books once again. It was just like normal. Whatever normal was for the Malfoy family.


End file.
